Close to the Vest
by Paddywagon826
Summary: Alternate Universe. Arnold and Gerald join the Hillwood County Sheriff's Office as rookie deputies. Along the way, they meet evidence tech Phoebe and traffic cop Helga. Idealistic Arnold will have to figure out how to deal with cynical Helga as he begins his new career. See author's note for further. Now with 50% more Rhonda!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This story was started as a way for me to manage the stress and nonsense of being a police officer. It takes place in an alternate universe in which most of the characters did not know each other growing up. The exceptions are the best friend pairs of Arnold/Gerald and Helga/Phoebe. As such the characters are in their mid-twenties or so and may be somewhat out of character. Arnold and Helga are used as representations of the two competing thought processes many cops deal with when answering calls. On the one hand, you have the idealist that wants to go out and save the world. On the other you have the cynical realist that understands how the world works and that almost everyone a cop talks to is lying. The notes at the end of a chapter will indicate when a chapter is based on a real incident that I have dealt with myself or have direct knowledge of. The story starts in 2015.**

 **I'm aware that the show was supposedly set in the Pacific Northwest. I do not live there and do not know the laws there, so the names of laws and the procedures will reflect the state in which I actually work.**

 **This story is rated M. There is violence, death, suicide, drug abuse, etc. Although I don't go into graphic detail in many cases, the reader is warned. The real world isn't pretty.**

 **I do not own Hey Arnold or any characters. Although I steal some story elements from the show, the majority of these stories are my own.**

The First Day, pt 1

August 24, 0615

Arnold Shortman tucked his uniform shirt in for the twentieth time that morning. He was anxious as he stood in front of the County Public Safety building, steeling himself to enter. He fingered his keys nervously with his right hand. He had his gun belt and equipment bag over his left shoulder as he stared at the employee entrance.

"Man, will you relax. We're gonna be fine." His friend and fellow rookie, Gerald Johanssen, nudged him with his elbow. They had grown up in the city of Hillwood together, attended school together, gone to the academy together. They had both tried and failed to gain sponsorship through the Hillwood City Police Department. They had both quickly discovered that even a simple sponsorship required political connections. They didn't have the pull to get in through HCPD, but Arnold's Grandpa Phil somehow knew the Hillwood County Sheriff. He had pulled some strings to get them sponsored and into the academy. And now here they stood.

Arnold took a deep breath. "I guess we'd better go inside before we're late, huh?"

"Arnold, our shift doesn't start for another 45 minutes."

Arnold shrugged. "No better time than the present."

Arnold stuck his hand out for their secret handshake, which Gerald returned with a smile. "We got this."

Shouldering their equipment, they proceeded through the security door and into the building. They had both been given an orientation the week before so they knew the basic layout of the building. Walking into the main administration hallway, they could see the offices of the brass lining both side. To their immediate right was the doorway to the road room. They would have to walk through there, past the on-coming and off-going shifts to get to the locker room.

Arnold supposed he hadn't been entirely sure what he expected when he entered the room, but it definitely wasn't what he actually saw. On the right side of the room were three desks, each with a computer. Along the right wall was a large rack of forms and templates for their reports. Along the far wall was the patrol weapons locker, a stack of defibrillators, and the copy machine. The left wall had two bulletin boards with patrol information, special detail sign ups, and log books as well as the doorway to the booking room.

And standing in the middle of the room were two people wearing camouflage uniforms and swinging machetes.

Both rookies stopped short. The two machete wielding lunatics looked up. The taller of the two was an enormous woman with brownish hair and a thick unibrow. Her face was devoid of expression. She was imposing and mildly terrifying. The name tape on her uniform read "P. Smith." The other subject was perhaps even more unsettling. Although he was shorter, he was clearly well built. He wore glasses with thick, black rims, had a badly executed high and tight haircut that looked as though he did it himself, and he sported a smile that could best be described as psychotic. His uniform said "T. Gammelthorpe."

Arnold broke himself free of the bizarre scene and introduced himself. "Hey, I'm Arnold Shortman. This is my friend Gerald Johanssen. It's our first day." He extended a hand toward the two. Smith raised an eyebrow and didn't move. Gammelthorpe snorted and walked out of the room toward the locker rooms, twirling his machete. Arnold nervously brought his hand back to his side. The awkward silence was thankfully brief as the door behind Arnold and Gerald opened behind them.

"Ah, my new Deputies! Welcome!" The two rookies turned to face the voice. They looked into the kindly face of Lieutenant Simmons. He quickly reached out shook their hands. "I'm happy to see you both arrived early. Please, go get your equipment on and meet me in my office. We'll get your training assignments sorted out."

The two deputies walked into the locker room and finished getting ready. Other deputies were moving in and out but most of them ignored the two new officers that were meekly putting their clothing in their lockers. They got a few nods here and there, but no one approached them to talk to them. They quickly left and returned to the Lieutenant's office.

Although "office" was perhaps a generous term. _This looks like a repurposed closet_ , Arnold thought to himself. There was barely enough room in the office for Simmons' desk and two chairs, but Simmons didn't seem to mind. He smiled broadly at both men as he handed them both enormous binders. "Gentlemen, these are your training manuals. You will keep these with you throughout your entire field training experience. It has all of the paperwork you need, and you will add the daily and weekly training assessment forms from your training officers. Do not lose them." Arnold and Gerald looked down at the binders, then at each other. "Now, you will each meet individually with Captain Wartz before going to initial training assignments. Deputy Shortman, you will be assigned to the Civil Division for the first 3 weeks. Deputy Johanssen, you will be assigned to communications to learn dispatch. I'm very excited for both of you as you begin this new career. Now, Deputy Shortman, please report to the Captain for your briefing."

Simmons stood from behind his tiny desk and shook both their hands and dismissed them. They both exited the office back into the administration hallway.

"What the hell is in this thing?" Gerald said, hefting the binder.

"I don't know Gerald. And I guess we're just going to be making it heavier. Do you remember how long they said we had to be on field training?"

Gerald groaned. "Four months. That's going to be a lot of daily sheets."

"We'll get through it Gerald."

The two walked down to the Captain's office. Captain Wartz had the door open so Arnold knocked gently on the door jamb. The Captain looked up from his paperwork. "Come in, come in. Deputy…Shortman. Please, shut the door behind you." Arnold entered, shutting the door and leaving Gerald in the hallway.

"Deputy Shortman, I've been going over your record from the academy. I see you had high academic marks across the board. 2nd in your class. Quite good."

"Thank you, Sir," Arnold replied. He smiled. He had been pretty proud of his record in the academy.

"You were also a Squad Leader, I see. Also good. High marks in defensive tactics. However, I've spoken to some of your instructors and I have to be perfectly honest, I don't believe you can do this job."

Arnold's smile disappeared. _What?_ "Sir?"

Captain Wartz set down the paperwork. "You displayed a distinct aversion to using force in your scenario-based training, even in situations where it was both legally and ethically appropriate. You need to know there are some situations that must be handled with force and can't be resolved simply with words. Your life and the lives of your fellow officers and the public may depend on the appropriate use of force."

"Yes sir, but I believe in exhausting all options before laying my hands on someone." Arnold had a lump in his throat. _I haven't even spent a day on the job and he's already judging me?_

Wartz peered over the top of his reading glasses at Arnold with a skeptical look. "Well, we'll see. You have three weeks of civil training and three weeks in communications before you even hit road patrol. Think long and hard about whether or not you will do what you need to in order to protect your coworkers and the public."

"Yes sir."

"Alright, report to the Civil Division 1st Sergeant and he'll get you started. You're dismissed. Send in Deputy Johanssen on your way out." Wartz took out another folder and dismissed Arnold with a wave of the hand. This day was not quite going the way Arnold had expected already.

 **A/N: That is similar to my conversation with a Sergeant on the first day. Although I was middle of the road in defensive tactics and first in academics. And the crazy SWAT guys with machetes really did happen my first day. Please feel free to ask questions in reviews or by PM.**


	2. Chapter 2

The First Day, pt 2

August 24, 1100

Arnold was bored. Bored out of his mind. He had spent all morning reading the Civil Division manual and going over the finer points of serving papers, forfeitures, garnishments, and it was driving him crazy. The 1st Sergeant had just released him for a half hour lunch and he was headed back to grab his bag from his locker. On his way he ran into Gerald.

"Hey, Arnold. How's it going?"

"Hey, Gerald. It's alright. Civil stuff is boring. I wanted to be a cop to help people, not serve them eviction notices. How's dispatch?"

Gerald shrugged. "It's not bad. A lot to do. They have me learning the computer program right now. In a few days they'll put me on the radios. Then they'll add the phones in. Lots of multitasking. I guess after 3 weeks we'll switch before we go on to our patrol training." Gerald looked at Arnold more closely. Arnold had a slumped posture, and looked deflated. "What's wrong with you? You get yelled at your first day or something?"

"Something like that. Captain Wartz told me he doesn't think I can do this job."

Gerald's eyes widened. "He said _what?_ "

Arnold shrugged. "Yeah, just like that. He's afraid that I won't use force when I need to."

Gerald shook his head. "That's nonsense. You were one of the best guys in the class in defensive tactics. You've been taking karate since you were a kid."

"I guess he doesn't care, Gerald. I'm not sure I even want to be here if that's what they think of me already."

Gerald stopped short. "Well you can knock that shit off right now. Ain't no way I'm letting you leave me here alone."

Arnold pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry Gerald. It's just a bad day. Let's just grab our lunch and eat. Maybe that'll make me feel better."

They both retrieved their lunches from their lockers. As Arnold was exiting the locker, he looked over his shoulder to talk to Gerald.

WHAM

He had walked right into someone in the hall, his lunch bag and a large metal clipboard crashed to the ground along with him. The clipboard popped open, spilling forms and traffic tickets all over the floor.

"Why don't you watch where you're going, geek bait!"

Arnold looked up to see a blonde female deputy also sitting on the floor, glowering at him in anger.

"I'm sorry. Please, let me help you…" Arnold started gathering up the scattered papers.

"I didn't ask for your help and I don't need it," she said. "Get out of my sight, newb. I'm tired of your football shaped head already."

Arnold grimaced. _It was an accident. Why is she being so mean?_ They both reached for the same paper, their hands touching. She instantly smacked his hand away.

"Who said you could touch me?!"

Arnold sighed and stood up, offering the few papers he had managed to collect. The other officer stood up too. Arnold finally got a good look at her. She was tall, at least 5'9", and athletically slender. Her blond hair was tied back severely and held with pink hair clips. She had piercing blue eyes, dark eyebrows, and a look of smoldering anger that took him aback, even after her harsh words.

"One side, moron," she said as she pushed past him.

"What the hell was that about?" Gerald asked from behind him.

Arnold shook his head. "I have no idea."

"I think I'm more afraid of her than the two lunatics with the machetes."

Arnold watched as she stormed out the back door toward the motor pool. "This is a crazy place," he sighed.

August 24, 1500

The rest of the day passed largely without incident, although Arnold was pretty sure he was never going to put Civil Sergeant on his list of future career ideas. Arnold and Gerald were released from duty and returned to the locker room. They both changed out of their uniforms, leaving them in their lockers for the next day. The road patrol shifts were also in the locker room. One of road deputies finally approached them and introduced himself.

"What's up guys. Name's Sid." He offered his hand.

"Gerald. This is my man Arnold. Nice to meet you."

Sid nodded at Arnold. "How was the first day?"

Arnold shut his locker. "It was… different."

Sid nodded. "Yeah, it can be a lot to take in. Keep your head up. You'll get there. If you guys have any questions or anything, let me know."

"Thanks man," Gerald said. "I've got one actually. What was with the guys in camo wielding machetes this morning?"

"Ah, that. They use the SWAT team to do marijuana eradication. They use the machetes to chop down the plants. They've been out all day. It's usually an easy detail, but some grows are protected by traps or armed guards. It's rare, but it happens."

"To be honest, you're first person that's really spoken to either of us today."

Sid chuckled. "Yeah, it's kind of a right of passage. They're going to give you guys the cold shoulder for a bit until you prove yourselves. It'll take a while but they'll warm up eventually."

"Even the angry blond?" Arnold asked.

Sid laughed heartily. "Pataki? She doesn't warm up to anyone. Doesn't hang out with anyone, except that crime scene tech. She's mostly a dedicated traffic cop. Keeps her in a car by herself, which is better for all of us."

"Sounds like a real peach," Gerald said.

"Oh yeah," Sid replied. "Stay out of her way. Tell you what though, you need someone to back you up in a fight, she's your man. Crazy bitch could probably take the whole SWAT team herself. She doesn't look like much, but she's not afraid of any shitbag out there." Sid checked his watch. "Listen, I gotta get out of here and head home. A bunch of us are hitting the bar this Friday after our shifts. You guys should come, meet some of the other guys. You'll be depending on each other out there, after all."

Gerald and Arnold said they would think about it. As they made their way back through the building toward the parking lot, Arnold saw Pataki sitting at a computer in the road room, typing reports. She was still scowling and focused squarely on the screen. Arnold stopped for a minute, thinking he should apologize for earlier.

"Keep it moving, Football Head," she growled without looking up. Arnold shook his head and left the room. It was official: the first day sucked.


	3. Chapter 3

Field Training

September 28, 0630

Finally, they had their first day with the road division. He and Gerald had both hated the Civil Division. Yes, civil process was required of a Sheriff's Office. But it was tedious work and unfulfilling. It generally just made the people you had to interact with angry. He didn't become a cop to ruin someone's day. At least not a _normal_ someone's day.

The Communications Division had been better. It allowed him to get a feel for the county, at least on a map, as well as start to learn the radio lingo and procedures. They no longer used 10 codes, but you still had to be clear and concise on the radio. He also knew what information the dispatcher needed when calling out traffic stops and going on calls.

But now he was finally going to be on the road, out where he could help people. He was anxious and excited. He kept fiddling with his equipment, triple checking to made sure he had everything on his person and in his bag. The last thing he wanted was for something to be missing when his Field Training Officer asked for it. Arnold walked out of the locker room and back into the road room. Gerald had just walked in and flashed him a smile. "What's up, my man?" They gave their usual handshake.

Before Arnold could reply, the two of them heard what sounded like yelling from down the hall. "What's that?"

Gerald shook his head. "Beats me. Is that coming from the Captain's office? What's he doing here this early?" Gerald opened the door to the administration hallway. The Captain's door was closed but they could see light coming from beneath it. The Lieutenant's office door was open, indicating he was also in the building. But they could hear a female voice in the room, even though they couldn't make out what was being said. "Mmmm mmmm _mmmm_. I'm glad I'm not in _that_ room right now."

"You said it Gerald. That sounds like Pataki."

Gerald slipped him a wry smile. "In that case, I'm glad I'm not the Captain.

"This. Is. BULLSHIT." Helga G. Pataki never had much of a filter in the first place, but even she usually didn't yell at the administration. Her Sergeants maybe, but the Captain was a bit too far up the chain. But she simply couldn't contain her anger as she crumpled the email printout in her right hand. "You can't take me off traffic detail. Not for _this._ "

"It's done, Deputy. I don't want to hear any more on it," Captain Wartz said. Lieutenant Simmons stood behind the Captain, looking unhappy.

"I _earned_ my detail. I have better arrest and ticket numbers than the anyone else in patrol!" Her face was flush, her eyes cold as ice.

"Which is exactly why you're being reassigned, Helga," Simmons said softly.

"No. I won't do it. I'd rather go sit at County Court on security." She folder her arms across her chest.

Wartz had had enough. "We're _done_ with this conversation, Pataki! Either you report to the road room right now for your assignment or you can turn in your weapon and your badge!" he yelled, standing up.

Helga uncrossed her arms and put her fists at her side, clenched hard while she stared daggers at Wartz. "Yes, _sir._ "

Wartz sat back down slowly. He lowered his voice. "Pataki, you're a good cop and you're proactive. I wish everyone here had your drive. But lately you've been getting more personnel complaints than usual. Is something going on?" Helga's fists unclenched for a moment. There was a brief flash of uncertainty in her eyes, but it quickly disappeared. Wartz sighed and looked down. "You don't have to talk to me about it, Pataki. But whatever it is, you need to figure it out. Because it's affecting your work. Dismissed."

Helga rendered a salute, which Wartz knew was nothing but sarcasm since no one saluted around the office. She executed a precise about-face and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind her. Simmons looked distressed. Wartz picked up a small model of a giraffe from his desk and slowly turned it in his hands. "Are you sure about this, Bob?" he asked.

"She's one of the best cops we have. But she's getting reckless. Hopefully this will get her back under control."

Wartz grunted. "No, you're not sure." Simmons just shrugged.

Helga stomped down the hallway toward the road room and threw the door open, slamming it into the wall and knocking off several of the clipboards that were on the bulletin board. Everyone in the room turned toward her with a startled look. She scanned the room and picked out the blonde rookie with the weirdly shaped head. She pointed at him. "You."

He looked at her, stunned. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. Grab your shit, bucko. You're with me."

"With you?"

"Are you deaf? Grab your shit and get out to the motor pool." She tossed him a set of keys. "I want Papa Sierra Three Two Six up front and loaded, ready for patrol, in five minutes. Capiche?"

Arnold nodded. "Yes Ma'am."

"Good. Now get moving. We don't have all day. We've got the north zone today."

Arnold turned and left the room. Sid, who had been sitting at a computer preparing Gerald's field training forms, looked over at Helga. "You're working a post today? Did someone call in sick or something?"

Helga ground her teeth. "I'm off traffic for a while."

Sid raised an eyebrow. "Oh? So, what are you doing then?"

She started marching out of the room toward the locker rooms to grab her things, pushing Gerald out of the way as she went. "I'm his damn FTO."

She could hear Sid laughing as the door to the locker room closed behind her.

 **A/N: A note on car designations for this story. The prefix "PS" ostensibly stands for "Patrol, Sheriff" but of course there's a double meaning there. The numbering system for patrols is 0xx for supervisor units, 1xx for road patrol, 2xx for community patrols, 3xx for traffic patrols, 4xx for detectives, and 5xx for department administration units. FTO stands for Field Training Officer. 10 Codes are the stereotypical cop codes, such as 10-4 for "received" or "affirmative." The problem with 10 codes is that each agency used their own set of codes, so ours would different from the city PD, etc. Most agencies use plain English now.**


	4. Chapter 4

**The North Country**

 **September 28, 0715**

Arnold thought the first day had been bad, but he had never thought something like this would happen. He was stuck in a car with the harpy known as Helga G. Pataki. The scourge of the patrol division. The hardest of the hardasses. Devourer of souls. It had taken him seven minutes to pull the patrol car up front; load it with his bags, AED, and rifle; do the equipment checklist; and set up the computer for the day. Seven minutes was longer than five. He got a dressing down in the motor pool in front of both the incoming shift of corrections deputies and the midnight road patrol that had just arrived. He saw the smiles on their faces as she called him "football head" this and "hair boy" that. He didn't even know what that one meant. His hair wasn't a crew cut or anything, but it was well within regulation. When she was done berating him, she ordered him into the passenger seat.

Now they were driving north on State 12 toward their assigned patrol area. She gripped the steering wheel tightly the whole way, a frown on her face. He looked straight ahead and kept his hands in his lap. He had no idea what to say or do, but he couldn't just sit there in silence. He cleared his throat.

"So, uh, I'm Arnold. Arnold Shortman."

She gave him a side glance but said nothing. He gulped but pushed ahead. "So, how long have you been working here?"

"4 years," she said through clenched teeth.

"Ah. Cool." He tugged at his collar. "Umm, so… how big is our patrol area today?"

"North is about half of the county. The most rural part. I guess they want you to start slow. So, thanks for getting me banished to the ass end of the county, Football Head."

He looked down at his lap. He didn't know what he had done, but the conversation with Captain Wartz on the first day came back. _I don't believe you can do this job._ Was she being punished by being assigned the hopeless case? _No, I can do this job. Maybe_ she _is a test for_ me. "So how much territory do we cover?"

"About 300 square miles. But it's rural. Not a lot of people, not as many roads. None of the towns out there have their own police departments so it's just us and state that patrol."

Arnold nodded. "So, how many cars do we have in the zone?"

"Just us."

Arnold blanched. "One car with two cops for 300 square miles?"

Helga smiled for the first time, but it was hardly a friendly one. "What's the matter, Hair Boy? Too dangerous for you?"

Arnold gathered himself. "No, of course not. It just seems like a lot of territory for two people to cover."

Helga shrugged. "When you're done with training, it'll be just one person. We don't double up our cars during the day. The state doesn't usually send a car out here either. Watch what you get into because your backup could be 30 minutes away, lights and sirens."

Arnold didn't realize that parts of the county were that isolated. "That seems like an officer safety problem."

"No, it's a limited resources problem. When you figure out how to get the county to spend more money on policing, by all means, tell the Sherifff. I'm sure he'd love your input." Helga rolled her eyes. _Another idealistic rookie that doesn't understand anything. Great._

Arnold looked down for a moment. "So, what are we going to d-"

"Shit!" Helga yelled. She slammed on the brakes as a small red sedan ran a stop sign ahead of her and cut her off, before traveling in the same direction.

"Oh, we're lighting his dumb ass up," she said as she activated the emergency lights. "Look alive, newbie. It's your first traffic stop." The car ahead braked and began to pull over to the side of the road. "You're going to follow me up on the driver's side and listen. I don't want you talking during this stop, understood?"

"Whatever you say, Pataki."

"It's Helga, Football Head. My name is Helga."

Arnold smirked. "Whatever you say, Helga."

Helga walked up on the driver's side of the vehicle with Arnold close behind her. She pressed her thumb against the tail light and slowly walked up to the rear driver's side door, quickly checking the back seat. It had a laundry basket full of clothes and some detergent, as well as food wrappers on the floor, but nothing out of the ordinary. The driver was gripping the steering wheel tightly and facing forward with the window still up. Helga observed him briefly. His knee was bouncing quickly, clearly nervous. She didn't see any weapons in the front seat or around the driver, but that didn't mean they weren't there. He had what appeared to be a joint tucked behind his left ear. _Too easy,_ she thought. She knocked on the window and he finally looked up at her and rolled down the window.

"Good morning, officer."

Helga could already smell the marijuana odor coming from the car. "License and registration," she said curtly. He reached into his pocket and removed his wallet, producing his license. He then reached over to his glove box. He rooted through it briefly before locating his registration. He handed both documents to Helga. "Where are you coming from today?"

"Uh, a friend's house," he said without making eye contact.

"Oh yeah? Were you guys smoking some weed there?"

He looked up at her, eyes wide in surprise. "Uh, yeah."

"Just a couple joints between friends, huh?"

He nodded.

"Any weed in the car?"

He shook his head. "No ma'am. I don't ever drive with weed in the car."

Helga's face twisted in a cruel smile. She reached in and plucked the joint from behind his ear. He flinched, until he saw the joint in her hand. "You sure about that?" she asked. He looked at her in shock. "Step on out of the car for me and keep your hands where I can see them." The kid did as he was asked, clearly terrified. "Now walk to the back of the vehicle and place your hands on the trunk." The kid walked to the trunk. Helga nodded at Arnold. "Deputy Shortman here is going to pat you down. Anything else on your person we should know about?" The kid slowly shook his head. Arnold quickly checked the kid's pockets and patted him down. He didn't find anything else. "Alright, you're under arrest for possession. Step into my office," she said, pointing to the patrol car.

* * *

A few minutes later, the red sedan was driving away, conscientiously obeying every traffic law the driver could think of. Arnold had placed the joint in an evidence bag, taken the driver's information in an arrest report, and issued him tickets to appear in court before they let him go on his way.

"So, how much trouble will he really be in for this?"

"The weed? Probably none. The DA's office here doesn't even prosecute them anymore. Even if they did, the fine from the stop sign is bigger."

Arnold grimaced. "Why'd we even arrest him then? It seems like a lot of paperwork for something that won't go anywhere."

Helga laughed. "Listen Hair Boy, you need practice on literally everything because you know practically nothing. I don't care how well you did at the academy, you've already forgotten 90% of it, and the 10% you remember is theory without practice. Welcome to practice. This job is repetition. The more you do, the better you'll be. Even if that means ruining some kid's Monday evening by forcing him to go to court for a bullshit ticket."

Arnold still wasn't so sure. It seemed like a waste of everyone's time, theirs included. Why arrest people when the DA's office wouldn't prosecute? Besides, it's not like weed was that big of a deal, and the kid wasn't driving stoned.

"Is this what the job is about?" he asked. "Messing with kids and ruining their day? I thought we were here to help people."

Helga gave him an impatient look. "You wanna know what the job is about? It's about hours of monotony and boredom, tedious bullshit, and infuriating office politics punctuated with moments of terror and fear. It's about spending your days dealing with the shit the world throws your way because for some stupid reason you _choose_ to deal with the misery and tragedy of the universe. It's about saving heroin junkies with Nalaxone only to have them OD again tomorrow, or having a domestic violence victim refuse to give a statement because she 'loves him so much' even when he beats the shit outta her. We're not heroes or saviors. We're gluttons for punishment, sponges for the awfulness that exists in society. We soak up pain and sadness and hope that on our weekends we find some way to wring out enough of it so that when our week begins again, we can make it to the end without losing our own God damned minds. We're the parental figures to hundreds of adults that should fucking _know_ better but act like children anyway. And once in a while you'll have to find a way to cope with a dog that was starved by its owner because it barked too much, or with a dead child laying face down in the street because mom or dad couldn't be bothered to buckle them in right and got into an accident. So, you find your kicks any way you can. And if that means fucking with some punk stoner who _broke the fucking law_ and gets what's coming to him, then so be it. _Fuck_." She punched the steering wheel and looked truly angry, but it wasn't directed at him. She was frustrated with all of it, with the job, the public, the administration, with life.

 _She seems a little… tense. It can't all be that bad, right?_ he thought. _These people we deal with have either only known misery or are having the worst days of their lives. If we don't show them compassion, if we don't try to be their light at the end of the tunnel, then who will?_ His train of thought was interrupted when the radio crackled to life.

"Sheriff's Office to Papa Sierra Three Two Six."

Helga retrieved the microphone. "Three Two Six," she replied angrily.

"Three Two Six, patrol to the area of 724 Higgins Road, cross streets are Coney Street and Highland Road. Report of three bovines in the roadway."

Helga frowned. "Received, en route." She hung up the microphone.

"Ass end of the county," she muttered.

 **Note: AED- Automated External Defibrillator. Many police agencies carry them because early defibrillation during a cardiac event increases the survival chances of the patient considerably, and often times we will be on scene before EMS. My agency covers 650 square miles and about 63,000 residents. Minimum staff for a 0700-1500 shift is two deputies in two cars. 1500-2300 is 3 deputies. 2300-0700 is 4 deputies in 2 cars. The state has similar minimums. The total number of cops in the entire county, including town, village, and city agencies, at any given time can be as low as 6. And yes, I've been dispatched for cows in the road.**

 **Also, I apologize for the lack of line breaks between sections. I didn't realize until now that they hadn't carried over when I uploaded the files. I should mention this story is actually about 98% complete. The frequency of posts depends on how quickly the chapters are reviewed by my "editor," but will be at least twice a week.**


	5. Chapter 5

**The Apartment**

 **September 30, 0650**

"Where are we today?" Arnold asked as Helga came into the road room.

"Southeast. Is the car ready?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Helga raised an eyebrow. "Well, at least you can do something right, Football Head. I'm driving 'til the end of the week. Then you get to chauffeur me around for next few months."

"I can't wait," Arnold muttered under his breath.

"I heard that. Get in the car. I forgot my portable at home. We've gotta swing by there on the way to zone." She walked out the door to the waiting car.

Arnold looked at Gerald. "Into the lion's den itself?"

Gerald smiled. "Sounds like a trap."

"Can't wait. If I don't come back at the end of the shift, you know where to start looking."

Gerald chuckled. "Man, Pataki may be mean but she's not stupid. She'll dump you in the river or something."

The door to the motor pool slammed open in the hallway. "Tick tock, buster! Criminy, stop wasting my time!" she yelled from outside.

Arnold put his head in his hands. "Just shoot me now."

* * *

 **0710**

Helga lived a short distance from the station, in a working-class neighborhood. It wasn't fancy nor was it run down. It was just…average. For some reason, Arnold expected something other than average. _Like a giant nest made of thorns and misery._ Arnold pushed that thought from his mind. That was uncharitable. She may not be much of pleasure to work with, but she was a good cop that worked hard. Helga put the car in park on the street.

"I'll be right back."

Arnold gave her a sidelong glance. "Not going to invite me in?"

Helga snorted. "A little bold, aren't we? We're not friends."

Arnold gave a wry grin. "No, we're not. We're partners, at least for the next few months. And my buddy Gerald says I'm indeed a bold kid."

Helga frowned. "Fine. But you stay in the first room, Hair Boy. No wandering around my humble abode."

They walked up to the third floor. The building was clean but used. The stain was worn from the railings. Paint chipped from the molding. It was a building cared for by someone with great heart but little capital. Helga opened the door and led him inside.

"Stay here," she ordered, before turning and walking deeper into the apartment. Arnold stood in a small hallway that led to a small living room. He walked to the end of the hall and gasped. There were books everywhere. The walls were lined with book shelves, but volumes were laid out on end tables, the coffee table, the one easy chair, even piled in the corners. Hundreds of them. Arnold looked at the closest shelf and saw collections of poetry. Kipling, Yeats, Longfellow, Frost and dozens of others, some that he recognized and many he did not. The stack on the nearest end table was made up of classical works; Thucydides, Plato, Xenophon, Homer. _Has she read all of these? And who the hell is Sima Qian?_ he wondered.

A bit of pink caught his eye from the small couch in the center of the room. The couch was the only thing not covered in books, instead home to a few pillows and small blanket. And a pink journal of some sort. He reached over the back of the couch and picked it up, opening it to the first page as he did so. Inside was a handwritten poem. He began to read it but suddenly the book was snatched from his hands.

"What the _hell_ do you think you're doing, geek bait?" Helga glared at him. _Maybe I should have waited in the car…_

"I'm sorry, I just… this is amazing." He motioned to the room.

"What is, invading my privacy? Get back in the damn car! I knew I shouldn't have let you come in here." Helga shoved Arnold back toward the door and ushered him out in a rush, the little pink book laying open on the couch.

* * *

 **0745**

It had been an awkward half hour since they left the apartment. Helga was plainly furious and Arnold felt terrible. He hadn't meant to cross a line, but he was so stunned by the scene in her apartment that he had become wrapped up in the moment. And that flash of pink in the sea of drab, dusty tomes drew him like a moth to a flame.

"So, uh, have you read all of those books?" he asked.

"Almost," she replied tersely.

"That's incredible."

"So, I have no life. What's it to you?"

"No, Helga, I mean it's amazing. You have more knowledge in your apartment than most colleges have in their libraries. Does anyone know just how well read you are?"

"No one cares, Football Head. The only thing that matters is how I do my job. And at this point, how you do _your_ job is all that should matter to _you._ Don't forget who determines if you finish field training, bucko." She pointed at herself with her thumb. "Helga G. Pataki. Don't forget it."

"I'm sorry. I'm just really impressed is all."

Helga looked at him. "Impressed?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, I couldn't get through some of those books, let alone really comprehend them." He met her gaze, which she held only for a moment before turning back to the road. "There's a lot more to you than anyone knows, isn't there?"

That seemed to rattle her for a moment. "Uh, n-no. Just… just shut up and keep your eyes open for traffic violations. I want to make sure you know your traffic law today. Call them out and I'll pull them over."

 _And just as soon as there was an opening, it was gone,_ he thought. He sighed. "Whatever you say, Helga."

 **A/N: To the Guest review regarding Helga's length of service: her bitterness and cynicism is a life-long issue. This is an alternate universe where she never had a positive influence in her life like Arnold (Phoebe doesn't have the effect on her that Arnold does), so it's not simply several years of police work that has made her like that. Flame reviews under guest names are going to be ignored. If you have criticism I'm happy to hear it because I want this story to be the best it can be. But name calling and baseless accusations will be disregarded. I was accused of sexism for making Helga a traffic cop. I'm unclear on that, as traffic is actually a sought after post in our relatively small agency. Since most of our drug interdiction and the intelligence for the Drug Unit come from traffic stops, good traffic cops are essential.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Little Pink Bow**

 **October 1, 1322**

She hated child endangerment calls. Absolutely hated them. All they did was bring up bad memories and open old wounds. Thanksgivings with burned stuffing. An alcoholic mother that never made her school lunch. A blow-hard father who could never even remember her name. This one was no different. Mom was a heroin addict and Dad was physically abusive. Child Protective got involved, they were dispatched, arrests were made. Now she was sitting at the station with a 5-year-old girl and two sorry excuses for humanity. Arnold was busy processing the arrests, which was going slowly because of his inexperience, and Helga was left with the small child in a conference room.

"Are Mommy and Daddy okay?" the child asked. The little girl looked up at her with big, brown eyes. She was wearing a dirty blue dress that looked as though it hadn't been washed in ages, and she was playing with an equally filthy doll. She had brought a small backpack filled with toys and other things from the house.

Helga smiled sadly at the girl. "They're fine, honey."

"That's good," the girl said as she looked down at the floor as if she was thinking about something before looking back up at Helga. "Your hair is pretty."

Helga laughed. "Why thank you. Your hair is pretty too. I like your pigtails."

The girl beamed at her. "Thank you. I did them myself. Do you want some? I can do them for you."

Helga got out of her chair and picked the girl up. She put her in the seat she had just left and pulled out her hair clips, letting her hair fall loosely over her shoulders. "Do you have some hair ties?" she asked.

"Yes! In my bag."

Helga picked up the bag and put it on the chair next to the girl before sitting down in front of her. "Alright. Just be gentle, okay?"

"Okay," the girl said with enthusiasm as she started rooting through the bag. "I'm going to make you even prettier!"

Helga chuckled softly. "Yeah, you do that, kid."

* * *

 **1447**

It took Arnold forever to finish processing the arrests on the two deadbeat parents. The finger print scanner was a whole new experience to him, and it took a while to get it down. It took him an hour to get everything squared away and turn them over to the on-coming shift for arraignment. In the meantime, Child Protective Services had arrived to place the child in foster care. Arnold walked down the hallway to the conference room to get Helga and the little girl. _I can't imagine how Pataki deals with kids._ He quietly opened the door and peeked in.

Helga sat in a wheeled office chair holding the girl in her arms, gently swaying side to side. The child was clearly asleep as Helga sang softly to her, a lullaby that Arnold didn't recognize. Helga's hair was in pig tails, uneven ones that were clearly done by the little girl, and a pink ribbon tied in a sloppy bow sat on top of her head. Arnold didn't really know how to reconcile the image before him with what he knew of Helga Pataki. _Definitely more to her than anyone knows._ He knocked gently on the door and Helga turned her head slowly to him, a peaceful if sad look on her face.

"Child Protective is here for her."

Helga nodded and gently shook the little girl until she woke up. "Come on, sweetie," she said. "It's time to go."

The girl yawned and nodded, rubbing her eyes with the backs of her hands. Helga stood her up and put the backpack on the child. She put the doll in the bag and started to take off the bow. The little girl shook her head.

"You should keep the bow. It makes you look pretty."

"But it's yours. I can't take your ribbon."

The girl smiled at her. "It's a present. I want you to have it. I have more ribbons in my bag."

Helga smiled back. She knew better than to argue with the child. "Okay." She wrapped the girl's hand in her own and walked her out of the room, Arnold holding the door open for them. He smiled at Helga.

"I like your bow too," he said. "Pink suits you."

"Can it, Shortman," she replied, but her voice lacked its usual venom and the smile she gave him seemed genuine instead of cynical.

He stood there for a moment, watching Helga Pataki, the scourge of the office, walking down the hallway hand in hand with a child. He shook his head. _Quite the mystery,_ he thought.


	7. Chapter 7

**Acid Trip**

 **October 2 0832**

They had been riding in silence all morning and it was making Arnold uncomfortable. She hadn't even spent much time berating him at the beginning of the shift. He just couldn't take it anymore. He had to have a conversation with _some_ one, and she was only one here.

"What were you singing to the girl yesterday?" he asked.

"Castle Dromore."

"I'm not familiar with it."

"It's Irish, I think."

"It sounded sad and beautiful."

"Well it's Irish, so yeah. That's how most of their stuff is. I guess that happens with potato famines and the like."

Arnold looked down. "So, what's on the agenda today?"

"Same as yesterday, hair boy. Whatever the public demands of us. But probably traffic to start."

He rolled his eyes. _Always with the traffic. I guess that's why she's the traffic car._

She glared at him. "Is that a problem for you?"

 _Can she read my thoughts?_ "No, ma'am."

The silence resumed.

* * *

 **0910**

They had only stopped one car before they got their first call of the day; a physical domestic involving a man and a woman who were both under the influence of LSD. They found the woman outside the house yelling hysterically that her boyfriend had run back inside after pushing her to the ground. She also said he had a .22 caliber rifle inside but she didn't know if he had gotten it. Helga patted her down and put her in the back of the patrol car to keep her from running off.

"Alright, Football Head. Let's find this guy and see what he's about." Arnold nodded as she walked up the door. "Sheriff's Office!" she yelled as she banged on the door. There was no response. "Sheriff's Office!" she yelled again. Still nothing, though it sounded as though someone was speaking inside. The door was unlocked so she turned the handle and entered. She stuck her head inside and yelled again. "Sheriff's Office! Anybody home?" There was still no reply but they could hear a voice in a room at the back of the house.

Helga unholstered her taser. Arnold reached to do the same, but Helga shook her head and frowned at him. "You're the cover officer. Gun out."

Arnold blinked. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Criminy Arnoldo, what did they teach you at that academy? What if he has that rifle?"

"It's just a .22-"

"And what if she's wrong?" Helga interrupted. "What if it's a hunting rifle that will zip right through that vest of yours? Gun up _now_!"

Arnold returned his taser to the holster and drew his pistol. They slowly made their way toward the voice. They found the man laying on his back in the bedroom. His arms were straight out at the shoulder and he was staring at the ceiling.

"Life," he said.

Helga kept the taser pointed at him. "Sheriff's office. Roll over and put your hands behind your back."

"World," the man said without looking at her.

"Yeah, world. Hands behind your back, bucko."

"Drug."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Yeah, drug. We got it." She holstered the taser and motioned to Arnold to put away his gun. "This guy doesn't even know we're here. He's talking to someone we can't see."

They stood there for a moment watching him. He kept repeating the three words over and over again, occasionally adding "You idiot" for good measure. They heard the front door open.

"Pataki, you in here?"

"We're in back, Sid," she replied. Sid entered the room with Gerald in tow.

"Is he violent?"

Helga shrugged. "He doesn't seem to know we're here, but we haven't tried to touch him yet. Is EMS coming?"

"Yeah, they're on their way. I guess we should hook him up before they get here, huh?"

"Probably. Alright newbies, get him cuffed so we can tell EMS the scene is secure."

Arnold and Gerald grabbed the man's arms and tried to turn him over. He started yelling "Life!" louder and stiffened his arms, but didn't exactly fight. Still, it was muscle against muscle, and the man was strong and unable to feel pain because of the drug. It was a struggle to get him into handcuffs, one which Helga and Sid enjoyed watching. The EMS crew arrived shortly after and evaluated the man. Hospitalization was obviously required, so Helga directed Arnold to ride in the ambulance to keep and eye on him while she followed in the patrol car.

Once at the hospital, the medics turned the man over to the emergency department staff and quickly left. Helga and Arnold stayed at the request of the staff to assist them with the patient in case he became combative before he could be properly secured. The man finally began to notice the world around him. Several nurses were in the room attempting to get the man hooked up to the heart monitors. He turned to the nurse on his left. "Wow, you are gorgeous."

She laughed. "Well thank you."

He then turned to the nurse on his right. "You're the ugliest mother fucker I've ever seen." She laughed too while she kept trying to locate a vein on his arm for the phlebotomist. "Do you know what you're doing?" he asked.

"Sure do."

"Well that's good. 'Cause I don't. Hey, why is my hand in my asshole?"

Helga actually let a giggle escape. Arnold caught it and gave her a sidelong glance with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. _So she_ can _laugh._ He looked at the man. "Because you're handcuffed, bud."

"No, but you took my arm off too. Why did you put my hand in my asshole if you took my arm off?"

Arnold laughed too. "Your arm is still there, I promise."

"Are you sure? It feels like it's off." The phlebotomist took out her needle to draw blood. "LIFE!" the man yelled.

The phlebotomist jumped back three feet and placed her hand over her heart before laughing. The head nurse turned to Helga and Arnold. "Do you think you can help us take the cuffs off so we can get him in the four point restraints? It'll be easier to take his blood that way."

Helga went to the right side of the bed and Arnold went to the left. They sat the man up and removed his cuffs. He was dripping sweat and his t-shirt was already soaked through. The nurses removed the shirt while Helga donned a pair of gloves. _We're going to have to bleach these cuffs after this,_ she thought. She turned to the side of the bed and grabbed the man's wrist. Arnold held his other wrist while the nurses worked on strapping his legs to the bed. The man looked around before turning to Helga.

"Am I dead?"

"No, you're not dead."

"Are you sure? I think I'm dead. Who killed me?"

"If you were dead, I wouldn't be able to talk to you."

At that the man leaned up, getting as close to Helga as he could, a dead serious look on his face and pupils the size of dinner plates. "That," he said with conviction, "is a really good answer." Helga and Arnold both struggled to hold the man's wrists as they broke out laughing. The nurses secured Arnold's side first before coming to assist Helga. The man looked over to see one of the nurses walking away. "You have a _glorious_ ass. Is my girlfriend here?"

The nurses finally secured his wrist, relieving Helga of her duties and allowing her to leave the hospital. Arnold met her at the bottom of the bed. Arnold pulled his radio off his belt. Helga looked at him curiously. Arnold gently rubbed the antenna on the bottom of the man's bare foot.

"WORLD!" the man yelled. "LIFE IS WORLD!"

They both ran out of the room, giggling.

 **A/N: Real call. This is almost exactly the way it went, except we got warrants for him and his girlfriend the next day for child endangerment. Their 4-year old was home when they dropped acid. He told us later he dropped 10 hits at once.**

 **Some people have asked how long the story is. It sits at 52 chapters and over 75,000 words. 98% is done, there are just a few things that need to be fixed in the later chapters. I keep the chapters short primarily because the incidents themselves are self-contained and throwing too many together would probably just end up confusing the reader. Most chapters are written so as to take the average reader 10-15 minutes to read.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Downtime**

 **October 2, 1830**

"So, you mean to tell me that Helga G. Pataki actually laughs?" Gerald stared at him in amazement. "I don't believe it."

Arnold chuckled. "Believe it. The beast actually _giggled_."

Gerald put down his beer and glared at Arnold. "Now I _know_ you're making it up."

Arnold put his left hand over his heart and raised his right. "Scout's honor. I'll tell you what, you should have seen her with that little girl the other day. She was actually pretty great with her. She sang her a lullaby. Let the kid put her hair in pigtails and give her a pink bow-"

"Man, I am _not_ drunk enough to deal with your bald-faced lies. I'm gonna get another beer. You want one?" Arnold shot him a fake scowl, to which Gerald rolled his eyes. "I know, you don't drink. One of these days I'm gonna get you to though. Would you like a refresh on your _soda_?"

Arnold smiled. "Nah, I'm good. But put in an order for some mozzarella sticks and some wings. My treat."

"Well, if you're buyin', big shot, I'm happy to eat it. Be right back." Gerald got up and walked over to the bar to place his order. Arnold looked around the bar with a contented smile on his face. All in all, it hadn't been a terrible first week on patrol. Yeah, there was some crazy stuff, and that mistreated girl was heartbreaking, but if he could survive a week trapped in a patrol car with Helga, he could survive anything.

He looked over to the door and saw two women enter. The first was a beautiful redhead with freckles wearing a green dress. The second was a demure Asian woman wearing stylish glasses and a blue sweater.

"So, next thing you're gonna tell me, Helga raises orphaned three-legged kittens or something," Gerald said as he sat back down next to Arnold.

Arnold shrugged. "Who knows. She might. That woman is more complex than anyone gives her credit for. Her apartment is packed floor to ceiling with books."

Gerald frowned. "I was really expected something more intimidating. Like skeletons. Or jars filled with men's souls."

Arnold chuckled but his eyes drifted back to the redhead that had walked in the door. She and the Asian woman were sitting at a high-top table near the bar. The red head looked in their direction, smiled, and waved. Gerald waved back. Arnold raised an eyebrow at him. "Friend of yours?"

"She's the new civil clerk at the office. She started right after you and I swapped Communications. Name's Lila. I guess the civilian employees like to hang out together."

"The Asian girl works at the office too?"

"Yeah, she's a crime scene technician. She was on a suicide scene I had this week. Her name's Phoebe. Real smart. Studying to be a doctor or something. Said she wants to be Medical Examiner for the county."

Arnold raised an eyebrow at Gerald, his mouth twisting into a smirk. "Sounds like you're quite well acquainted."

Gerald looked down at his hands. "Uh, nah man, she's just, you know, cool. Real chill." Gerald was clearly nervous.

"Maybe you should go talk to her." Arnold nudged him with his elbow.

Gerald looked around nervously. "Hey, where the hell are those mozzarella sticks?"

* * *

 **2013**

Arnold dropped Gerald off at his apartment but declined his invitation to stick around and play video games. He had forgotten his portable radio in his locker and he needed to bring it home and charge it. The last thing he needed was FTO Pataki giving him a bad daily review for having a dead radio.

The parking lot of the station was mostly empty. The few cars left belonged to the afternoon patrols and the dispatchers. All of the civilian employees and the administrators were long gone. It was a Friday after all. Arnold actually rather liked the office at night. It was definitely easier to get your paperwork done when you didn't have Sergeants, Captains, Lieutenants, and Sheriffs wandering around, poking into what you were doing. He walked through the road room and turned left through the doorway into the locker room hallway, where he ran into someone coming the other way. They both ended up on their butts, sitting on the floor.

"Criminy, Football Head! What the hell is with you and watching where you're going?" Helga rubbed her forehead. Arnold stood up quickly and offered her his hand. She batted it away. "I can stand up on my own, thank you very much."

Arnold was about to apologize when he realized she wasn't wearing her uniform. She was instead wearing a gray long sleeve flannel shirt with a white tank top underneath, faded blue jeans that were slightly baggy, and worn red Converse sneakers. Her hair was in a pony tail. It was the first time he had seen her out of uniform. It was always difficult to tell what a woman's figure was when she was wearing her vest, belt, boots, and formless green and black uniform. The woman standing before him was slender, but not unhealthy. She actually had hips, which he wouldn't have known with her belt on, and a delicate bust that fit proportionately with her lithe frame.

"I-I'm sorry Helga. I guess I was distracted." He reached his left hand to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his. If he had to guess, he was probably blushing badly after having checked out his training officer.

Helga seemed to notice and shyly grabbed her left elbow with her right hand, a nervous habit of her own, while looking down at the floor. "Yeah, well, do better next time, bucko. Wait, what are you doing here this late?"

"I, uh, kinda forgot my portable," he mumbled. "What are _you_ doing here? Our shift ended five hours ago."

Helga shrugged. "I had to finish your daily sheets and a bunch of other paperwork. Then I spent a few hours in the workout room. Now, if you're done with the interrogation, I'm running late."

Arnold smiled. "Hey, it's not an interrogation if you're free to leave at any time."

Helga raised an eyebrow at him. "I see you remember _some_ thing from the academy."

"Got a hot date tonight?" he asked.

She scowled at him. "I don't date. And even if I did, I wouldn't tell _you_ about it. We're not friends, remember?"

He grinned back at her. "Nope, just partners. Enjoy your not-date, Deputy Pataki."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm just meeting a friend out at the bar. Happy? Now get your radio and go home. It's the weekend, and I definitely don't want you taking up any more of mine." She turned and walked into the road room. Arnold watched her go, his eyes lingering for a moment on a pink ribbon tied in a bow on her pony tail.

* * *

 **2035**

"Sorry I'm late, Pheebs. I literally had a 'run-in' with someone at the office." Helga sat down at the high-top and sighed heavily.

"It's okay. I ordered you a Yahoo soda," Phoebe said cheerfully, sliding the glass over to Helga.

Helga took a sip through the straw. "So, where's this skirt I was supposed to meet tonight?"

"Oh, she had to leave a little while ago. She said she'd meet you next time."

Helga frowned. She actually did feel bad about being late, but sometimes when she got going in the gym she lost track of time. Especially when something was on her mind.

"I saw your trainee here tonight," Phoebe said.

"Oh great. So, he's going to be sharing the same bar? I'm never going to get away from Hair Boy, am I?"

"Well, to be fair, a lot of people from the office frequent this establishment."

"He's the one I ran into at the office. That's the second time I've ended up on my ass in that hallway because he can't watch where he's going."

Phoebe giggled. "He might be the only person I know of that can knock you on your butt, Helga."

Helga gave Phoebe a glare. "Easy there, sister. That football headed goof is a royal pain. I let him in my apartment for two minutes and I catch him trying to read my pink book."

Phoebe's eyes widened. "Your poetry book?"

"Yes, Pheebs, my poetry book. I would never be able to show my face in that department again if everyone knew I wrote poetry."

"Was your week with him really that bad?"

Helga snorted. "That bad? _That_ bad?! Let me order nachos and the I'll _tell_ you about my week with Deputy Shortman."

Helga related losing her traffic detail, at least temporarily, getting banished to the North Zone and chasing cows, the man on the acid trip, and the little girl from the endangerment call.

"And _then_ he has the balls to say that pink suits me!"

Phoebe laughed. "Well, it _does_."

Helga pointed a cheese covered nacho at Phoebe. "Do _not_ take his side or we're not friends anymore." She popped the chip into her mouth and looked back at Phoebe, who was beaming at her. "What is your malfunction? Is there cheese on my face? There's cheese on my face, isn't there." Helga started wiping her face furiously with the back of her sleeve.

"You're sweet on him, aren't you?" Phoebe said, her smile getting larger.

"What?! Are you out of your mind? I _hate_ that green-eyed looney toon."

"You remember his eye color? You _must_ be sweet on him."

"I'm warning you right now, Pheebs, continuing down this path will not end well for you. Forget I even mentioned him."

"Forgetting!" Phoebe chirped. _But don't think I missed that pink bow in your hair,_ she mused.

"Good. Now tell me about this boy you were texting me about."

Phoebe looked down, a slight blush in her cheeks. "Well, his name is Gerald…"


	9. Chapter 9

**Stroke Symptoms**

 **October 17, 1707**

Arnold was in his second week of driving and Helga had ceased giving him any direction at all. _Activity is on you, Football Head_ , she had said. _Do whatever you want._ Arnold had to admit it was pretty intimidating to be handed the keys and sent out into the world with no real guidance. Helga spent most of her time in the passenger seat staring out the windshield or texting rather than speaking to him. Unless he made a mistake, in which case she berated him mercilessly. But then, he'd come to expect that from her. She put up walls around herself and she didn't let anyone in. Except whoever it was she texted all day.

"Sheriff's Office to Papa Sierra three two six."

Arnold picked up the microphone. He was still nervous on the radio. It all sounded so easy until you realized the whole world could hear you on the scanner. "Three two six is on."

"Respond to 72 Mandarin Drive. Property damage accident in the parking lot. No injuries reported."

"Received, en route."

 _Well, at least a fender bender is easy,_ he thought.

The accident itself had been a nothing incident, hardly even worthy of the term "fender bender." An elderly woman had sideswiped a parked car which was still occupied. The parked car had some scratches in the paint and small dent, her car had no visible damag. Arnold had given the owner of the parked car an accident form and had begun to do the same with the old woman. She had been alert and active when he had first arrived, but now she appeared confused. He held the accident form in front of her and began to explain it.

"Where is it?" she asked.

"It's right in front of you, ma'am." Arnold frowned. It was only a foot in front of her face. She seemed to be looking right at it.

She looked around and finally saw the paper he was holding. She seemed to have severe tunnel vision. "Oh." She tried to lift her arm to take the paper but the effort seemed to exhaust her. "I have a headache."

Arnold turned to look at Helga. She shook her head and shrugged. "No clue, Arnoldo, but that ain't normal."

"No, it's not." He thought back to his first responder section in the academy. "It might be stroke." He lifted his microphone "Three Two Six, Sheriff's Office. Advise 911 to send EMS to this location. Eighty-two-year-old female, possible stroke symptoms."

The medics arrived and loaded her into the ambulance for transport.

"I guess nothing can ever be simple, huh?" Arnold said as the ambulance pulled away.

"Never," Helga said. "Let's go. Just remember we gotta stop at the hospital later and find out what happened to her for the report."

* * *

 **2326**

Arnold rubbed his eyes as he stared at the computer screen. He was still writing his reports for the day, even though his shift was over. They had picked up a number of other calls, mostly nonsense, and now each one needed a report to close it out. Even the false residential burglar alarm activations required a few lines of narrative. It wasn't difficult, but it was time consuming. Now he was staring at the narrative for his accident. They had stopped at the hospital toward the end of the shift to follow up on the old woman. A CAT scan had showed a bleeding blood vessel in her brain, which required her to be transported by helicopter to a better equipped hospital. The ER doctor said her prognosis wasn't great.

"Go home, Arnoldo."

Helga was standing in the road room doorway wearing her workout clothes.

"I need to finish this accident report, then I'm done."

"You can finish it tomorrow when you come in. Now go home." He sat there motionless, staring at the screen. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know. I just feel like I should have done more."

"Unless you're hiding your skills as a neurosurgeon, I'd say you did as much as you could have."

He smiled weakly. "I guess so. Thanks, Helga."

"For what?"

He shrugged. "For keeping my feet on the ground, I guess."

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a Football Head." She turned and walked out, trying to ignore the little flutter in her heart that she got every time he thanked her for something.

 **A/N: This was a real call. I never found out if she survived in the end.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Rescue**

 **October 23, 1841**

"Because I _said_ so, Hair Boy!"

"Helga, I just thought I could get dinner tonight. You can get it tomorrow."

"I don't need your charity, dammit!"

"Helga, it's _Subway_ , not a four-star steakhouse."

The two of them stood in front of the sandwich counter arguing while the poor employee looked at them in total confusion.

"So, uh, what kind of bread do you want?"

Helga turned to the employee and jabbed a finger at him. "Don't interrupt, kid."

"Helga-"

"911 to any units in the area of 10945 State Route 52, cross streets of Jay Street and Hagen Avenue, respond priority one for a shots fired call. Caller reports a victim down, unknown injuries. Suspect in possession of a shotgun and has retreated into the residence."

Arnold and Helga looked at each for a moment before running out the door, leaving a very confused Subway worker behind them.

"Give me the keys!" Helga said.

"No, I'm driving."

"Give the damn keys, that's an order!"

"Lieutenant says I'm supposed to do everything at this point, that includes driving," Arnold said with a smirk.

"Ugh, you're _infuriating._ " Helga said. _And yet, I adore you_ , she thought.

* * *

Helga and Arnold weren't the first unit on scene. Two State Police patrols were already there, as well as another Sheriff's unit and a local PD car that responded out of jurisdiction to assist. The call was at a misshapen and run-down apartment building up a dirt driveway that was partially washed out by years of rain and no maintenance. Helga and Arnold approached the perimeter, Arnold with his pistol and Helga carrying the patrol rifle. They took position behind cover and Helga addressed the State officer that was in charge of scene.

"Where's the suspect?"

"Witnesses say he retreated inside the house. Discharged one round from a pump shotgun at the victim and missed, then cracked him in the head with the stock before going inside. No one has seen him leave. There are two doors in, one on the side facing us and one on the left side. There are no doors on the back side of the apartment that access the rest of the building, so what you see here is pretty much every way in or out. SWAT is on their way."

Helga peered over the top of the abandoned refrigerator she and Arnold were sheltered behind. She saw what appeared to be a body laying on the ground near a fire pit, the fire still smoldering. It was only a few feet from the side of the building.

"Is that the victim?"

"Yeah."

"Is he dead?"

The State officer shrugged. "Don't know. No one has been able to get to him."

Helga glowered at the man. "So, you're just going to leave him there? He could be alive!"

The officer frowned. "Hey, my orders were to set up a perimeter and wait for SWAT and that's what I'm going to do. My sergeant is on his way."

"We're going to get him."

The officer shook his head. "The hell you are. This is _my_ scene, and you're not breaking cover."

"I'm not part of your chain of command, _bucko._ "

"You're _not_ going out there," he said forcefully, color rising in his cheeks. He was getting angry.

Helga pointed to the prostrate figure on the ground. "If he's alive right now and dies before your team gets here, that's on _you._ But I'm sure as shit not going to let it be on _me_. If we go out there and get killed, you go right ahead and tell your supervisor that you _ordered_ us not to go. But we _are_ going." Helga stared at the officer, fury plainly visible in her blue eyes.

"You're not gonna stop her, Jim," the other state officer said.

The officer thought for a moment. "Fine. Go. We'll cover you. But I accept no responsibility for what happens to you out there."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you want. Thanks Bill." The other State officer waved at her. She turned to Arnold. "You ready?"

Arnold holstered his side arm and nodded. "What's the plan?"

"We'll swing out to the left, use that big tree as intermediate cover on the approach. We'll try to stay in line with that corner on the way up to cut down the possible angles he can use to shoot at us. I'll cover, you get him in a fireman's carry, and we get him to the car. We'll radio EMS once we're clear and meet them at their staging area. Capiche?"

Arnold nodded. Helga could tell he was nervous, but he looked determined. The two kept under cover as they moved to put the tree between them and the house. Helga ran up to the tree and unslung the rifle. She pointed it at the closest window and waited for Arnold to get to the tree.

"On me, Shortman," she said as she stepped out from behind the tree and walked toward the man on the ground. She kept the rifle pointed at the house as Arnold stayed close behind her. Her heart was beating faster and faster. She passed the victim and Arnold began to lift the man onto his shoulders.

"Good to go," he whispered.

"Move," she replied. Arnold carried the man back a quick walk while Helga backed away slowly toward the tree. Arnold went straight back through the perimeter while Helga covered from the tree. Once Arnold was clear and on his way to the patrol car, Helga broke cover and ran back. Arnold loaded the man into the back seat and Helga jumped behind the wheel. "Stay back there with him. Make sure he doesn't fall off the seat and get hurt worse." She pulled the magazine out of the rifle and cleared the chamber, then tossed both rifle and magazine into the passenger seat. She put the car in reverse and started backing out while she picked up the microphone.

"Papa Sierra three two six, 911. We'll be clear and en route to the EMS staging location with one male victim. Possible blunt trauma to the head."

"Received, three two six. What is the victim's status?"

Helga looked in the rear-view mirror at Arnold. "Unresponsive. Pulse weak and regular, 90 bpm. Respirations shallow, 20 per minute," he said.

Helga relayed the information to 911. "Received, three two six. EMS is staging at Elk Island Fire Company. AirMed is en route, ETA zero three."

"Three two six copies."

Elk Island Fire wasn't that far from the scene. As Helga arrived she could see that the fire company had already laid out lights in the parking lot as a landing zone for the medevac helicopter. Two ambulances were waiting for her arrival. She pulled up next to one and the paramedic opened the back door. He had Arnold stabilize the patient's head and neck while he applied a cervical collar. They slid a flexible stretcher under him and began to snap him in. The medic asked Arnold to climb out so he could start taking vitals on the patient. Helga could hear the helicopter approaching.

"You need help moving him?" Helga asked.

The medic shook his head. "Medevac is here. I only want to move him once."

The helicopter set down and the flight medics took over the patient. They moved him carefully to their own stretcher and loaded him into the passenger compartment. In a few minutes, the helicopter was airborne again. Helga watched it lift off and start to disappear into the distance. Arnold leaned heavily against the side of the car. His hands were shaking.

"Well," he said. "That was a trip."

"Sure was."

He looked up at her. "How can you not be scared doing something like that?"

Helga shook her head. "I was terrified, Football Head. But sometimes you just have to embrace the suck and do your job. Only guy I know that wouldn't be scared is Curly Gammelthorpe. But he's a certifiable whack job." She looked back at him. "Don't worry about the shakes. You're just coming down from the adrenaline dump. You'll be fine."

Arnold chuckled. "I'm not sure what scared me more. Running up to that house or being in the back seat without a belt on while you were driving."

Helga turned to him to snap off a retort but Arnold just winked at her. _Be still, my heart!_ she thought, swooning.

"Uh, I… shut up, geek bait!" she yelled as she stomped off toward the fire house. _Good recovery,_ she thought as she shook her head. She looked up at the volunteer firefighters standing around the front door. "Where does a woman have to go to get a bottle of water around here, sheesh!"

 **A/N: Real call, though the details are made up because I wasn't there. Two of our guys pulled a victim out. The victim survived. It was actually our scene and not state's, but there's always a little friction between departments. Also my posting schedule is all messed up. But I should still be on course for two updates a week.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Infatuated**

 **October 25, 1913**

Gerald started to choke on his beer. "Wartz did _what_?" he asked, in between coughs.

"He wrote her up. Said she placed herself and her trainee at unnecessary risk or something." Arnold took another sip of his soda.

"So, let me get this straight. You and Pataki the Terrible risk your lives to go save an unconscious man from possible death, and she gets _disciplined_ for it?"

"Yup. Turns out there wasn't even any danger. When SWAT hit the house it was empty. The witnesses that said he ran into the house were wrong. He took off into the woods. Hillwood PD found him a few hours later in the city."

"Mmmm mmmm mmmm. That's messed up, man. I mean, I've got no love for the girl, but there's no denying she's got some serious balls. And no one will convince me that what she did was _wrong_. How about you? Did you get in trouble?"

Arnold shook his head. "Nope. She took the fall. I even tried to tell them I agreed wholeheartedly with the plan and that we came up with it together, but they said she had already signed a statement saying she was solely responsible."

Gerald's eyes grew wide. "The witch took the fall for _you_? Man, this story gets weirder and weirder. She _hates_ you."

Arnold shrugged. "I dunno man. I'm telling you, that woman is way more complex than anyone gives her credit for. I'm not sure anyone will ever figure her out."

"Well on that point at least, I agree with you."

"Enough about office politics. How are things with Miss Phoebe?" Arnold gave Gerald a smirk.

"Phoebe? Oh, uh, they're good, I guess."

"… You haven't asked her out yet, have you." It was less of a question than a statement.

Gerald nervously scratched the back of his neck. "Well, not technically, no."

"Gerald…"

"Okay, no, alright? I kinda… got scared."

"Gerald, she's the least intimidating person on the planet."

"I know that. It's just, you know. Hard."

Arnold sighed. "Is she still friends with that new civil clerk? Lila?"

"Yeah, why? You looking for a hookup?" Gerald wiggled his eyebrows at Arnold.

Arnold blushed. "No, not a hookup. Just maybe… an introduction?"

Gerald gave him a hooded stare. "Arnold, she works in our office. You've already met her."

"Well, you know, like a social introduction. The only time I ever get to talk to her is when I'm turning in civil papers and stuff."

Gerald sighed. "You're just trying to use the lovely Phoebe to your own ends."

Arnold grinned at him. "So are you, lover boy." He nudged Gerald with an elbow.

Gerald pushed him away. "Fine, fine. I'll see what I can do. Maybe the four of us can hang out."

"Awesome. You want another? I got your next round."

* * *

"And _then_ he says I put a strain on the department's relationship with State because I was bossing them around on their own scene! Can you believe that crap?"

Helga was destroying a plate of wings while Phoebe stared on in amazement. She knew Helga could eat when she was angry, but she was on a whole different level tonight. "Uh, Helga, perhaps you should slow your food intake just a bit."

"Ugh. Pheebs. Between the Captain and Football Head, the only things I have to let my anger out on are you and these wings. Which would you rather I obliterate right now?"

"Point taken. But what has Arnold done that gets you aggravated." It was more a statement than a question, because she knew he hadn't done anything.

"What _hasn't_ he done? That whole goody-two-shoes persona drives me up a wall. You know he actually stopped to help an old lady cross the street the other day? Who _does_ that?"

Phoebe giggled. "You're terrible at hiding that you like him, you know."

"L-like him? C'mon Pheebs, you've got a screw loose. Is it hot in here? Must be these wings…"

"Oh Helga. Why don't you just admit it? It's okay to like him. From everything you've told me he's kind, generous, and honest. And to be frank, you've been wearing that pink ribbon in your hair every time you've gone out since he mentioned that it looked good on you. I'm not a cop, but I'm not stupid Helga." Phoebe smiled at her.

"Okay, so what if he's disturbingly idealistic? And so what if he has a great smile? And I could drown in his beautiful green eyes? And… aww fuck, Phoebe." Helga looked forlornly at her wings. "I'm infatuated with that stupid football head, aren't I?"

Phoebe smiled. "It seems so. And I for one think it's wonderful."

Helga looked up at her, a skeptical look on her face. "Wonderful? C'mon Pheebs. I'm a hot mess of emotion and psychological damage. He's not gonna go for that."

Phoebe shrugged. "You won't know unless you decide to try."

Helga started wiping her hands on the stack of napkins next to her wings. "I don't deserve anyone as all around _good_ as him."

 _Here we go again_. "Helga, you deserve the best. I have always believed so."

Helga stared at her smaller friend. "Phoebe, I'm a stone-cold bitch. Who wants that?"

"Well, maybe around him you shouldn't be."

Helga snorted. "Yeah, okay, I'll just change my whole personality around Hair Boy. Do you know how hard-"

"Oh, hey Helga."

Helga practically jumped out of her skin. She turned around to see Arnold standing behind her. "A-Arnold?"

Arnold smiled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. What are you guys talking about?"

Helga's eyes got wide. "Uhh, we were t-talking about, uh-"

"Ice cream," Phoebe interjected. "We were debating dessert."

"Ah, well, I won't interrupt such an important discussion. But if you two would ever like to join us, Gerald and I come here often. We'd be happy for the company."

"Pssh, like I'd want to hang out with _you_ , Football Head. It's bad enough I have to share my car with you every day."

Arnold shrugged. "The offer stands." He started walking away but stopped, looking at the back of Helga's head for a moment. Then he leaned in close to her. "By the way, I like the bow," he whispered.

"T-thanks, I guess. I'll, uh, see you at work." Helga kept facing Phoebe, who giggled as Helga's face turned as pink as her ribbon.

"See you both later." With a wave, Arnold continued on to the bar.

Phoebe's giggle had turned into a full-fledged laugh. Helga pointed a finger at her, her cheeks still bright red. "You're a traitor." Phoebe winked at her. "O-ho! For that cheeky little episode, you owe me a drink. Now get me another soda, missy!"

"Getting!" Phoebe said cheerfully, as she slid out of her seat and walked over to the bar.

Helga propped her elbows on the table, holding her face in her hands and shaking her head slowly. "She's lucky I love her."

 **Note: The rumor around the office was that the deputies that pulled the victim out were disciplined for it. Never found out for sure.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Halloween**

 **October 31, 1845**

"Oh, of _course_ you would say that, you idealistic twit. Captain America is _not_ a better super hero than Deadpool." Helga sat in the passenger seat of the patrol car, eating a bag of Swedish Fish. It was Halloween and seeing kids in costumes had spurred a fierce debate on the superhero question.

Arnold laughed. "I should have guessed that you'd love the merc with the mouth."

Helga raised an eyebrow at him. "And what, exactly, do you mean by that?" _Is he calling me crazy?_

"C'mon, you're at least a mouthy as he is, if not worse. And if we were in a comic, I have no doubt you'd break the fourth wall at every opportunity."

"Hey, at least he has an actual superpower. Plus breaking the fourth wall is hilarious when done right. Captain America is crap without his shield."

Arnold smiled. "Captain America's power is his soul. He always tries to do what's right, even when it costs him dearly. The shield is a great tool, but it's not what defines him, and it's not why others follow him."

Helga rolled her eyes. "You're killing me Hair Boy. I would choose pretty much anyone over Cap. Bruce Banner, now there's a guy I can identify with."

Arnold chuckled. "Trying to say you have anger issues?"

"I'm pretty sure that's obvious, good sir. _Your_ problem is that you don't have any anger at all. It can be a useful emotion at times."

"So, if I make you angry enough, will you turn green and tear out of those clothes?"

"Why, Deputy Shortman, are you telling your _field training officer_ that you want to see her in torn undergarments? That is _definitely_ going on your daily sheet today."

Arnold blushed slightly. "I didn't say that."

She threw a fish at him. "And you'd better _not_ say it, bucko." _I'm lying. Please say it,_ she thought.

"Besides, green's not your color." _It is when it's your eyes, paste for brains._

"Right, right. Pink is."

Arnold gave her a quick glance and winked. Helga felt her heart skip a beat. _Is this idiot flirting with me? Am I flirting with him?! What the hell is happening here?!_

"Sheriff's Office to Papa Sierra Three Two Six."

Arnold picked up the microphone. "Three Two Six is on."

"Three Two Six, patrol to the area of Horton Avenue between Elm Street and Deer Ridge Road. Suspicious activity complaint. Possible vandalism in progress. Subjects throwing eggs at a residence."

"Three Two Six en route." He hung up the mic. "I guess our superhero conversation is over."

Helga popped two more fish in her mouth. "Not even close, buster. It's only on hold. Now let's go catch us some juvenile hoodlums."

When they pulled onto Horton Avenue they could see the kids under the street lights, throwing rolls of toilet paper into the trees and eggs at what appeared to be an unoccupied house. Arnold got within 50 feet before they realized he was there. He activated the lights and the kids froze. He threw the car in park and he and Helga jumped out.

"Hold it right there, you brats!" Helga yelled. The kids scattered and started running through yards. "Hey, get back here!" Helga took off after them.

"Wait, Helga!" Arnold called. He sighed. "Okay, on you, I guess."

Helga followed a pair of the suspects into a back yard through a gate. The yard was fenced in and she didn't see another way out beside the gate she had entered through, but the yard was large and home to large bushes, a shed, and a tree house. She stopped and pulled out her flashlight. Arnold came up beside her and did the same. He turned his on and it immediately flickered off.

"Crap," he muttered. Helga unclipped a smaller flashlight from her pocket and handed it to him. "You carry two?"

"Two is one, one is none, Football Head. Now look alive. There are at least two of the little roaches in here."

"Helga, they're just kids."

"Oh, I know it. And kids are squirrely. On your toes." She started creeping forward as though she didn't have an 800-lumen flashlight in her hand giving away her position. Arnold shook his head and smiled. _She's intense about everything,_ he thought.

Helga crept up to a bush and jumped around the side. "Aha!" she yelled. As soon as she did, two kids stood up in the tree house to her right and started throwing eggs at her. Several found their mark, covering her in gooey yolk. One hit her on top of the head, covering her face. She froze in shock as Arnold burst out laughing. "Oh, you little _shits!"_

Arnold wiped tears from his eyes. "I'll go get them." He started to jog toward the tree, but his boot landed in a broken egg on the slate patio. His foot went out from under him and he landed on his back with a "Wuff!" as the air was driven from his lungs. Now it was Helga's turn to laugh. Their assailants hit him with two eggs while he lay helpless on the ground before descending the treehouse and running past the two temporarily disabled deputies and back out the gate. Helga couldn't help herself and was on her knees, still laughing at Arnold.

"Helga…" he said after he finally got his wind back.

"Y-yes Arnold?" she managed as she struggled to catch her breath.

"Did you see who just egged us?"

"Y-yes I did. I did, Arnold."

They had just been egged out of commission by Captain America and Deadpool.

After catching their breath, they walked back out into the street. As they came around the corner they stood in shock as they saw that 326 was covered in toilet paper. Their shock lasted only a moment as they both began laughing again.

The shift sergeant hadn't been happy. They failed to catch any of their suspects, their car had been vandalized, and two of his deputies were temporarily out of commission while they returned to the office for a change of clothes. Their dressing down lasted ten minutes when they got back to the station, but it couldn't stop either of them from giggling the whole time. In the end, neither one of them cared that they ended up getting stuck washing the entire shift's patrol cars for the rest of the week as punishment.

Totally worth it.

 **A/N: Apologies for the late post. Got stuck on a 16 hour shift with 8 off before the next one. Also this chapter has not been reviewed by my editor, so please let me know if there are any spelling or grammatical errors I missed. The saying "two is one, one is none" basically means that you can expect your equipment to fail when you need it. If you carry two of something (like a flashlight), you can probably expect one to work. If you carry one, don't be surprised if you're stuck without anything when you really need it. I always carry two flashlights, two cuffs, and two knives on duty (one folding pocket knife and a fixed blade on my weak-hand side). If my agency allowed a backup gun, I'd carry one of those two.**

 **My partner is frequently borrowing my backup flashlight because he forgets to charge his primary.**


	13. Chapter 13

**The Airport**

 **November 22, 0815**

Arnold pulled the suitcases out of the trunk and placed them on the sidewalk in front of the terminal. "What have you got in these things, bricks?" he asked.

Stella laughed gently. "No, but there are some books in there. We won't be going back out for Christmas, so we're bringing our gifts out early." She suddenly looked sad. "I'm sorry you can't come with us this year."

 _Yeah, I feel terrible about not seeing cousin Arnie_ , Arnold thought. He forced a smile. "Me too, mom. But at least this year Grandma and Grandpa are going. Will the boarders be alright without anyone around?"

Miles walked around the front of the car. "Oskar might starve to death, but I think everyone else will make it. We arranged for Gerald's parents to bring over some Thanksgiving dinner on Thanksgiving day. They said there should be enough for you and your partner." Gerald was also working Thanksgiving, but unlike Arnold he had the day before the holiday off, so his family was celebrating early.

"Thanks dad. I'm sure Helga will appreciate the gesture, but the sergeant said we can stop at home during the shift and spend some time there if there aren't any calls. I'm sure she'll want to see her family."

"More for you then." The smile faded from his face. "Be safe, son. I'm sure Thanksgiving is a crazy holiday in your line of work."

Arnold smiled. "I'll be fine, dad. But thanks."

Stella hugged him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "We'll miss you. Remember, no friends over past 11."

Arnold laughed. "Okay mom. Have a safe flight. Don't let grandma have too much fun."

Miles looked around. "Speaking of. Where did she go?" He turned back with a mildly panicked look on his face. "We should probably go." Arnold waved goodbye as they disappeared into the terminal. He walked back to the car but a flash of golden hair further up the terminal caught his eye.

"Helga?"

* * *

"Hurry it up, little lady. Your sister doesn't have all day."

"Your concern is touching, _Bob_ ," Helga muttered as she dragged the largest suitcase known to man to the waiting Hummer. "Criminy Olga, how much extra did you have to pay for a bag this big?"

"I'm not sure, baby sister. But I just _had_ to fit everyone's Christmas presents!" Olga was carrying her son Robert "Little Bob" Miller. The boy was five years old and Helga had to admit she adored the kid. And she had one of her few truly happy moments with her sister when Olga had told her that the boy's middle name would be Helgi, the masculine version of her own name. It reminded her that for all their differences, her sister did think about her.

"It's too bad Richard couldn't come out with you this year, dear," Miriam said. Olga's husband hadn't been able to make it. _He can't stand this family any more than I can_ , Helga thought.

"Hey dad, maybe a little help with this stupid thing, would ya?" Helga was still struggling with the enormous suitcase that felt like it was filled with lead.

"Watch your tone, missy."

The bag suddenly got lighter. "I'll help you." Helga turned in shock, dropping her end of the suitcase and causing Arnold to stumble forward. "Ow."

"A-Arnold? What are _you_ doinghere?"

Arnold stood and rubbed the arm that felt like it had just been ripped from its socket. "I was dropping off my family. They're headed out to see my cousins. I saw you down here and thought I'd lend a hand. Although now I'm regretting it. I don't suppose we can swing this as a work-related injury?"

Helga regained her poise and put her fists on her hips. "Suck it up, football head. Now pick up your end so I can get this thing in the car and end the first chapter in the nightmare that is Thanksgiving."

Arnold chuckled. "Whatever you say, Helga."

They lifted together and put the suitcase in the back of car with a loud thump. Helga turned to Arnold and their eyes locked for a moment. She was about to thank him when Bob came around the side of the car and handed him a dollar.

"Yeah, thanks kid. This is for you. Don't spend it all in one place."

Arnold looked at the bill, then at Bob. "Uh, sir, I-"

"Dammit Bob, he's not a porter, that's my _partner._ From work?"

"Fine, fine, whatever. Then give me that dollar back." Bob snatched the bill from Arnold's hand and put it back in his wallet. Arnold stood with his hand still out, looking quizzically at Helga. _What is happening right now?_

Helga crossed her right arm across her stomach and rested her left elbow on it. She bowed her head and pinched the bridge of her nose with her left hand while she squeezed her eyes shut. _This is definitely_ not _what I wanted to happen today._

"Dad, this is Arnold. Arnold, Bob." She kept her head down but waved her hand hurriedly between the two during her introductions.

Arnold extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, sir."

Bob waved a hand at him dismissively. "Yeah, you too Arnie. When you're done playing with your friend, get in the car. Your sister is tired from her flight." With that, Bob walked away.

"I'm… sorry about that," Helga said. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. "My family is… well, that."

"You called me your partner."

She looked at him, confused. "What?"

Arnold smiled. Helga's heart jumped. "You called me your partner. Not your trainee. You've never done that before."

"Uh, yeah, well, um… don't read too much into it, geek bait. I don't want you getting too comfortable or anything. Besides, I only have you for like three more weeks." She hadn't really thought of it before that moment, but the fact that he wouldn't be with her every day saddened her.

"Does that mean I'm passing so far?"

"Let's _go,_ Olga!" Bob yelled as he honked the horn.

"Ugh! It's _Helga,_ dad. _HELGA!_ "

"Whatever, just get in the car."

She looked at Arnold. He was frowning and looking at the Hummer. _Great, now he's going to pity me. And I don't need his pity._

"I'll see you at work," Helga said. She turned before he could respond and got in the back seat of the car. They sped off, leaving Arnold standing alone on the curb. He shook his head sadly and walked back to his car.

 **A/N: I forgot to address this last chapter. A Guest reviewer mentioned cop bars. I'm sure they exist, but there isn't any one bar up here that is frequented by cops more than another, or that is particularly friendly to police officers. In my state, it is actually illegal for any sworn officer to be involved in a business that produces, distributes, or sells alcoholic beverages. It doesn't matter if you're a full-time officer or a part-timer that works one day a month, you can lose your job if you were to say, work in a bar, even as a cook. So, I'm sure they exist in places, but it's not common here. For the purposes of the story, the bar just happens to be close to the office and thus convenient for people that have just gotten off work.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanksgiving**

 **November 26, 1607**

Helga had been silent for the past hour. No insults, no outbursts, no sarcastic jokes. She just sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window. Arnold hadn't felt so awkward around her since the first day. _She was fine yesterday,_ he thought. _The holiday must get her down_.

"So…" he said. "Are we stopping at your parents place later so you can see your family?"

"Not if I can help it," she replied softly.

"It's that bad?"

"Not that it's any of your damn business," she replied, anger edging into her voice, "but I can tell you exactly how the day is gonna go. Miriam will overcook the stuffing and get hammered, Big Bob will sit in front of the TV watching football all day, and Olga will prepare some spectacular meal while telling the world about her many virtues." Helga sighed. "The only saving grace is Little Bob."

"You don't get along with anyone?" he asked.

"Just mind your own damn business, Arnoldo." She said quietly.

Arnold thought for a moment.

"I've never had a real Thanksgiving."

She turned to him slowly. "What?"

Arnold sighed. "My Grandma is a little… eccentric. She gets her holidays mixed up. When Thanksgiving rolls around, she celebrates the Fourth of July." Helga raised an eyebrow. "Burgers, hot dogs, fireworks… the whole nine."

Helga smiled. "That actually doesn't sound so bad."

He blinked slowly. "We reenact the signing of the Declaration of Independence."

She bit her lip. She was clearly trying not to laugh.

"In costume. I'm always Ben Franklin."

He looked over to see Helga biting her fist to keep from laughing. She waved a hand at him and turned to hide her face. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm just imagining you with those tiny little bifocals."

He smiled meekly. "I wear the bald cap, too."

"Okay, okay," she said as she laughed. "I guess my Thanksgiving isn't _that_ bad. And I really should stop to see the little man." She checked her watch. "They'll be eating soon. We might as well head over there now. Just… keep your mouth shut when we get there."

Arnold grimaced. "Why-"

Helga interrupted him. "Because I know you. You're going to try to fix my family. I don't want you involved. The goal is to get in, get turkey, and get out. Capiche?" She jabbed her finger into his shoulder.

"Okay, my lips are sealed."

* * *

She knew it was a mistake the minute they stepped in the house. Bob was already yelling at the TV, and Miriam was blitzed on 'smoothies.' Olga was just bringing out the food for the table when they arrived.

"Baby sister, you made it!" Olga ran out and gave Helga a hug.

"Easy there, bucko. Don't ruin the merchandise."

Olga released her but kept her hands on Helga's shoulders. "I didn't think you'd make it."

"Yeah, well, it's slow right now. Besides, Hair Boy back there was getting hangry."

Olga noticed Arnold for the first time. She leaned in close to Helga. "He's cute," she whispered, then gave Helga a wink. Helga felt the heat rising in her cheeks. Olga stepped around Helga and offered her hand. "I'm Olga."

"Arnold. Pleasure to meet you." He took her hand and bowed his head slightly, giving her a polite smile.

"And charming too."

"Yeah, yeah, break it up you two. He's my partner, not my date." _If only…_ she thought. "We can't stay for long. We're still on call."

"Well you're just in time. Dinner is served! Mommy, Daddy, dinner!"

They made their way to the table as Miriam walked in with Little Bob. Big Bob came in from the trophy room. He stopped short when he saw the visitors. "What're you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be working?"

Helga rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks for the warm welcome Bob. We're allowed to stop at home if we're not busy."

"I didn't invite Alfred here."

To his credit, Arnold did as he was asked and stayed quiet. But Helga wasn't about to do that. "His name is Arnold, Dad. And he's my _partner_. He goes where I go and vice versa."

"Well, there isn't enough food for him too."

"Isn't enough food? There's enough here for half the department!"

"B-", Miriam tried to interject, but Bob cut her off.

"You listen here little lady, this is _my_ house and we go by _my_ rules, you got that? You can eat, but your little friend here is gonna have to get his own dinner."

"Get his own? His family is out of town, Bob!"

"Well that's his problem. Pass the stuffing, would ya, Miriam?"

Helga's fists were clenched hard at her side and she could feel her face flush with anger. She decided it was time to leave. She didn't want to have a meltdown on her father in front of Little Bob. Or Arnold.

"We're going. We'll find our own dinner." She turned and stormed out, Arnold awkwardly following behind. "I told you this was a mistake."

"Baby sister!"

"Not now, Olga."

"Helga…"

Helga stopped. It wasn't the pleading sound of Olga's voice, though that was part of it. No, Olga never called her by her name. She sighed.

"Olga, I-"

"I wanted to give you something before you left." Olga handed her a small wrapped box. Helga looked at it, baffled. "We're not going to be out for Christmas. Mommy is taking care of the other presents but it… it was important for me to give you this one myself."

Olga was upset, Helga could tell, and she actually felt bad about it. She unwrapped the box and opened it. Inside was a copper disk, almost two inches in diameter. It was known as a challenge coin. Officers sometimes carried them as good luck charms. On the front was an image of Saint Michael, the patron saint of police officers. She lifted the heavy coin out of the box and turned it over. On the back was part of the prayer to St. Michael:

 _St. Michael the Archangel,  
defend us in battle,  
be our protection against the wickedness  
and snares of the devil_

Around the curved edges was written "Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends."

"I know you're not religious, but it would mean-"

Helga cut her off by wrapping her in a hug. "I love it, Olga. And I love you," she whispered. She released Olga from her embrace and unzipped the front of her shirt, revealing her ballistic vest. She opened the Velcro pouch that held the hard plate that gave extra protection to her heart and slid the coin inside. "It will stay with me always."

Olga smiled as tears welled up in her eyes. Then she pointed at a small pink ribbon tied in a bow that was safety pinned to the vest carrier in front of the heart plate. "What's that?"

Helga quickly zipped up her shirt. "It's, uh, it's nothing." She leaned close to Olga. "We'll talk about that later," she said quietly.

Olga nodded and then looked past Helga to Arnold. "You make sure you keep her safe, okay?"

Arnold smiled at her. "Honestly, she keeps _me_ safe."

Olga looked back to Helga, who was now turning bright red. "I like him," Olga said with a wink.

Helga turned and marched toward Arnold. She put her hand on his shoulder and turned him toward the door, ushering him out. "Alright, Arnoldo. Let's find dinner."

"It was nice to meet you-" he said over his shoulder as Helga pushed him out the door.

* * *

They drove in silence for a short time before Arnold spoke up.

"So, uh, I have an idea for dinner."

Helga had gone back to staring out the window. "I hope so, Football Head, because everything is closed on Thanksgiving."

Arnold drove over to his grandparents boarding house. "Wait here, I'll be back in a few minutes."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Football Head."

Arnold returned a short time later with a cooler, which he put in the trunk of the car. "They have a microwave at the office, right?" he asked as he returned to the driver's seat.

"Yeah."

"Good." He smiled at her.

"What are _you_ so happy about?"

"Nothing."

They returned to the station and he asked Helga to remain in the road room until he called her. The main portion of the office was deserted, with the only occupied portion being the dispatch center at the other end of the building. Helga absentmindedly tapped away at some reports for a while until Arnold cleared his throat behind her. She turned toward him.

"Dinner is served," he said.

She followed him to the break room. When she entered she couldn't help but laugh. He had laid out a modest spread of turkey, stuffing, and cranberry sauce, all still in their plastic containers. Paper cups filled with cheap supermarket apple cider and paper plates were laid out along with plastic cutlery. He had taken an ugly gray emergency blanket from the supply room and used it as a table cloth, while an 8-hour emergency candle burned in the center, next to a pine cone he had obviously found in the parking lot and used as a center piece.

"Well, it's not _that_ bad, is it?" he asked as he scratched the back of his neck.

"No Arnold. It's perfect." Her heart swelled and she beamed at him. "Thank you."

 _She's cute when she drops the walls,_ Arnold thought. "Ladies first," he said as pulled out her chair.

They sat down and began eating the Johansson family leftovers. It wasn't long before they got their first of many domestic calls, and much of the food was returned to the cooler before it could be eaten, but it was the closest either of them had ever come to a real Thanksgiving.

 **A/N: To the guest analyzing the bit about Helga and Arnold identifying with certain superheroes, you pretty much nailed the subtext.**

 **And to the guest who was concerned with Arnold being alone on Thanksgiving, I hope this chapter assuaged your fears. When you work for a county-level law enforcement organization and you have enough units on a holiday, it's usually possible for officers to swap zones and cover for one another so that everyone can spend at least an hour at home with their families. This is most common on Thanksgiving and Christmas. That being said, sometimes you're at minimum staffing for a shift and it simply can't be done. I've had a Christmas dinner at Taco Bell because that was all that was open and there was no way for me to swap zones to get home. Police families generally accept that you're going to miss holidays and try to celebrate on your closest day off. Somehow I've been lucky and I've actually had Thanksgiving off each year since I became a cop. I have, however, missed Christmas eve and Christmas day three out of those four years. My first Christmas day as a cop I had a heroin overdose (with a Narcan save, but he had already turned blue by the time we got there) and a suicidal subject. A lot of guys refuse to take the day off because in our agency major holidays are 2.5 times your normal pay rate (triple time if it's an overtime shift). I don't have a girlfriend or kids, so I usually try to stay on the road so that the guys with families can spend time with them.**

 **Ajay: I considered that, but even a recommendation for extra time in field training is something that can stick with you and negatively affect your career for years. I don't believe Helga would consider that for more than a fleeting moment before rejecting it. She cares for him too much to endanger his career. Also there's an extra chapter this week since my editor felt bad about being late and did some extra work for me.**

 **Nep2uune: Yeah, Bob's a jerk. But don't all of our parents embarrass us at some point with our significant others?**


	15. Chapter 15

**The Movies**

 **November 29, 1510**

Arnold put his wallet back in his pocket and grabbed the tickets from the counter. He thanked the kid behind the counter and walked over to the concession stand.

"Here you go," he said, handing the ticket to the woman that was already waiting in line.

"Why thank you, Arnold. It was ever so kind of you to buy the tickets," Lila replied.

"It was my pleasure."

"I'm ever so excited to see this movie," she chirped.

"Uh, yeah, me too." Arnold actually had no desire to see the movie itself. He wasn't all that into romantic comedies. But he had finally convinced Lila to go out on an actual date, and if he had to suffer through a lousy rom-com matinee before dinner, then that's what he was going to do. He looked around nervously. In doing so he caught sight of something in the line at the box office. Or rather, some _one_.

"Helga?"

Helga stood with her arms folded, tapping her foot impatiently and scowling at the person in front of her. She was wearing a light, gray jacket over a pale blue hooded sweatshirt, baggy jeans, and her converse sneakers. It was her "date," however, that caught Arnold's attention. She stood next to a girl of about 12. The girl was skinny, tall, and a little awkward. She had long brown hair and big, expressive eyes. She also wore a big smile and had her hands clasped in front of her in anticipation.

"Arnold? What are you looking at?" Lila asked, snapping him out of his stare.

"Oh, uh, Deputy Pataki is over there. I rarely see her outside of work so it was just a surprise."

Lila turned around and saw Helga. She smiled and waved. "Oh hi, Helga!" she yelled.

Helga looked over. Seeing them snapped her out of her impatient pose. She straightened and waved meekly. The box office attendant called her up next and she looked down to the girl. She took her by the hand and walked up to order her tickets.

"Arnold, why don't you go say hello. I'll get the popcorn."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Ever so sure! I'll come meet you when I'm done."

"Okay." Arnold walked over to Helga, who was thanking the attendant as she picked up her tickets. She looked up to see Arnold walking toward her.

"What's up, Football Head?" she said. She peered around him at Lila, who was still watching and waving excitedly. "Here with little miss perfect, huh?"

Arnold scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, yeah. Early movie then dinner. How about you? Who's your friend?"

Helga looked down at the girl who was still smiling excitedly. "This munchkin is Samantha. I'm her Big Sister." Arnold's face twisted in confusion. Helga rolled her eyes. "You know, the Big Brothers Big Sisters thing?"

"Oh. Oh! Sorry, you threw me with that one."

"Samantha, this is Arnold Shortman. He and I work together at the Sheriff's Office."

"Is he the one you said was cu-"

Helga hurriedly interrupted her. "Oh, heh, yeah, hey, here's a twenty. Why don't you go get in line and get us some snacks? See that redhead over there? That's Lila. I work with her too. Go introduce yourself."

"Okay! Are you going to see the Hunger Games too?" she asked Arnold.

"Uh, no, unfortunately not."

"That's too bad. I've been waiting all year to see it!" With that she ran over to Lila.

"Cute kid," Arnold said after she was out of earshot.

"She is. Her mom's a deadbeat that walked out on her and her dad works three jobs to make ends meet, so I take her out a few times a month."

"That's really great."

Helga looked down. "Uh, yeah, well, don't go blabbing to anyone around the office. I have a reputation to maintain. Anyway, what are you two seeing?"

Arnold groaned slightly. "Some rom-com. I don't even know which. She wanted to see it."

Helga smirked and crossed her arms. "Really? I would've thought a sappy do-gooder like you would've been all into romantic comedies."

"Not really. I'd rather see that new James Bond movie. Or the Hunger Games, for that matter."

Helga playfully jabbed him in the chest with a finger. "Hey, no trying to steal my girl, bucko. C'mon, let's go collect our dates." She brushed past him and walked over to Samantha and Lila. Arnold watched her go. _Full of surprises,_ he thought.

* * *

 **December 1, 0723**

"So how did your date with Miss Lila go?" Helga asked. She tried to seem disinterested, but her heart was in her throat. _Please tell me she got attacked by ants in the theater or something,_ she thought.

Arnold sighed. "Not like I had hoped."

Helga sat up straight. "Oh?" _Good work, Helga, you sounded excited. You lunatic._ "I mean, what happened?"

"We had dinner and all that, and it seemed to be going fine. But when it came time to say goodnight she said that she appreciated the evening, but that she thought I was hung up on someone else."

"Someone else?" _More competition? Criminy, this guy gets around._

Arnold shrugged. "That's what she said. But there's the thing. I don't really have an interest in anyone else."

"You're better off anyway."

Arnold frowned. "Why is that?"

"C'mon Hair Boy, she's so damn sweet that you'd probably go into a diabetic coma just from kissing her."

Arnold snorted a laugh, then composed himself. "That's not nice."

"Can it, Football Head. You two are both idealistic, sappy do-gooders that want to fix everyone else's problems all the time. You're basically the same person."

Arnold thought about that for a minute. She wasn't entirely wrong. He and Lila were pretty similar in a lot of ways.

"So what kind of woman should I be looking for, oh Helga, matchmaker extraordinaire?" His lip curled slightly into a smirk.

"You need someone that's a realist. Someone that will keep your head out of the clouds and your feet on the ground. You need to be challenged. Otherwise you're just going to get soft."

"Someone like you, you mean?"

"Ha! In your dreams, Arnoldo," she spat back. _Well, in_ mine _at least,_ she thought.

He turned to her and gave her warm smile. "Admit it. You're gonna miss me when my training is over."

Her eyes widened and she turned to look out the window. "Eyes on the road, buster. Otherwise it's going on your daily sheet."

He laughed softly. "Whatever you say, Helga."

"Damn right."

 **A/N: It seems Lila, like Communism, was just a red herring (bonus points if you get the reference). This would have been out sooner but I decided to forgo sleep and instead enjoy the nice weather and hit the range. So as I approach 31 hours without sleep, I'm starting to get a bit punchy. Thank God it's my weekend.**

 **Duprenis: There isn't too much Gerald in this story but there is some. I have more for whatever comes after this story. I'm still not sure if it'll be a chapter story or a series of one-shots and short serials. Good luck with becoming a firefighter. All of the firefighters in our county are volunteers (I'm a member of a company myself, although with my schedule it's hard to go on many calls).**


	16. Chapter 16

**Deputies**

 **December 10, 1127**

Helga's phone chirped a text alert. It was from Phoebe.

Bar tonight?

Helga thought about it. She really wasn't feeling all that up to it. It was a sad day for her. Although she had wanted nothing to do with him when his training started, Helga was now in her last shift as Arnold's FTO. Tomorrow he would officially be on his own, a full-fledged deputy in his own right. And she would go back to where she was before, running traffic by herself. _I used to prefer being alone. Now I dread spending all day by myself._ She texted back.

Dunno. Kinda feeling down

Then you should go out to take your mind off it.

Helga smiled. Phoebe was probably right. She shouldn't go home and drown her sorrows in books of poetry. She was going to have plenty of alone time soon anyway.

Okay. What time?

6:30. The usual place.

See you there

"Trying to get Scottie to beam you up?" Arnold asked.

Helga rolled her eyes and took out a bag of Sour Patch Kids. "You know Kirk never said the phrase 'Beam me up, Scottie.'"

"A Star Trek fan huh? I never pegged you for hard sci fi."

"There's a lot you don't know about me, bucko." She regarded him carefully. "I'm thinking you're a Star Wars fan. Probably Lord of the Rings, too."

Arnold laughed. "Guilty as charged. How'd you figure?"

Helga shrugged. "Good versus evil, not a lot of gray area in there. Suits your idealistic tendencies."

"And Star Trek fits your sensibilities as a realist?"

"Better than that space opera does. How much Star Trek have you actually seen?"

"I used to watch Next Generation when I was a kid, but I honestly never watched too much of it."

"Watch some Deep Space Nine. Especially the later seasons. There's a war going on, decisions of dubious morality are made, and it's hard to tell who's right and who's wrong. That's what the real world is like."

Arnold shook his head. "I can't imagine you sitting around binge watching Star Trek all night. It seems beneath someone who's as well read as you seem to be."

"Hey, a good story is a good story. It doesn't matter if it's an epic poem, a biography, a video game, or a cheesy '90s TV show. If the characters feel real and the story is compelling, I'm down for it. I've got all the Star Trek shows on DVD."

He looked at her. "Then maybe I'll have to come over sometime and watch them. You can pick out the good ones."

She almost choked on her candy. "Uh, yeah, well, judging by your behavior the last time you were in my apartment, I'm not sure I want you back there. I've got some privacy to protect, after all."

Arnold was quiet for a moment. He appeared to be thinking about something. "Helga, I just wanted to say thank you."

She regarded him curiously. "For what, football head?"

"I know you didn't want to train me, and that it took you away from what you were used to. But I've learned a lot from you and… well, you've been a good teacher and I've come to think of you as good friend."

Helga was simultaneously elated and saddened. _Does that mean I'm friend-zoned? Or is this a possible step toward something better? At least he doesn't hate me…_ "Yeah, well, you're not half bad yourself, Arnoldo. Thanks for getting me out of my rut, I guess."

Arnold smiled. Helga's heart melted.

* * *

 **1830**

"Hey Pheebs."

"Helga! Right on time tonight."

Helga shot her a look. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Phoebe looked guilty. "Oh, nothing…"

Helga wasn't buying it. "What did you do, Phoebe? Something's going on here, I can smell it."

Phoebe looked bashful. "Well, I thought since your trainee finished his tour with you, we could celebrate."

"Okay…" Helga was still trying to figure out what Phoebe's game was when a hand gently laid itself on her shoulder. She jumped slightly.

"Good evening, ladies."

Helga turned to see Arnold and Gerald standing next to her. "What are you two doing here?"

Gerald slid into the seat next to Phoebe. "Phoebe invited us out to celebrate the completion of our field training."

Helga glared at Phoebe, who just shrugged in response. "Surprise?"

"You and I will have words later."

"Ah relax, Pataki. We're not at work. You don't need that tough girl persona around us," Gerald said.

"With you around, Geraldo, I need to be twice as tough. What are your intentions with my best friend, bucko?"

Arnold laughed while both Gerald and Phoebe looked embarrassed.

"I, uh, well you see..."

"Hey Gerald, how about you and Phoebe go grab some drinks for the table?" Arnold suggested.

"Uh, yeah, that sounds good." Gerald stood up and offered a hand to Phoebe, who blushed slightly before accepting it.

Arnold watched them walk over to the bar. "You really like putting people on the spot, huh?"

"Hey, I gotta make sure he's good enough for my Phoebe, ya know? I can't let her go out with just anyone."

"Well, Gerald is one of the best people I know. And I think they're cute together."

Helga softened a bit. "He _does_ seem to make her happy. She talks about him a lot."

"And what about you, Miss Pataki? Why isn't there a man in _your_ life?"

 _Oh God, no._ "I don't want to talk about it."

Arnold's face fell. "I'm sorry, you're not, you know…" his face grew red. "Like, into girls, or something? I didn't mean-"

Helga laughed. "Relax, hair boy. I'm not gay. But the face you just made was something special."

He relaxed. "I thought I insulted you for a minute there."

"Nah, I can take it. Helga G. Pataki is a tough nut to crack."

 _Yeah, after two and a half months in a car with you I_ still _haven't figured you out,_ he thought. "Seriously, though."

Helga sighed. _You're not getting anything from me that easily, buddy._ "I've told you before, I don't date. Doesn't fit with my personality."

"Bullshit."

She wasn't sure if she was more surprised that he called her out or that he swore. "Such language, Mr. Shortman."

Before Arnold could continue, Gerald and Phoebe returned with their drinks. Gerald had a beer, Phoebe had gotten a margarita, and they had brought a pair of Yahoo sodas for Arnold and Helga. She looked at Arnold. "No booze for you?"

He shrugged. "Doesn't hold any allure for me. I'm happy with who I am sober. You?"

Helga frowned. "Miriam," she muttered. Arnold had only been in the house for a few minutes on Thanksgiving, but she thought he would understand. He nodded and said nothing. _Okay, maybe you're not_ always _dense,_ she mused.

Gerald raised his beer. "Here's to the completion of field training and the beginnings of our new careers."

"Here here," Phoebe said. The four clinked their glasses together.

"To comrades and… friends?" Arnold said, winking at Helga.

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Arnoldo."

Gerald pulled out his phone. "We need a picture. C'mon, selfie time."

"Seriously?" Helga said.

"It's okay to have a personal life, Pataki. You can't have everyone thinking you live at the station or something."

"Fine, fine. Just one though. You're probably like those stupid chicks that take 50 million photos until they get that perfect one."

Gerald smiled deviously at her. "Better be careful or I might just put on one those snap chat filters that makes you look like a deer."

"God, I hate you."

Gerald and Phoebe stayed seated while Helga and Arnold moved to their side of the table and stood behind their chairs, Helga behind Phoebe and Arnold behind Gerald. Gerald tried to line up the shot. "Hey Pataki, get closer to Arnold. You're half out of the shot."

Before she could respond, Arnold reached around her back and placed a hand on her hip. He pulled her in closer until she was pressed against him. _Ohh…_ she swooned inwardly. She could smell his body spray. _He smells divine._ Arnold kept his hand on her hip while Gerald took the photo. She tried to focus on looking at the camera, but the fact was her eyes weren't focused on anything in the room. The flash went off and Arnold moved his hand. She sighed. _Maybe I_ should _have told them to take as many as they wanted._

Gerald showed the picture to Phoebe, who giggled. "Oh, that's adorable. Can you send it to me?"

"Sure. I'll send it to everyone."

Helga's phone pinged as she received the photo. She opened it.

In the picture, Gerald had a big, goofy grin, cheesing it up for the camera. Phoebe was smiling cutely and raising her margarita. Arnold gave a casual smile, his eyes half lidded. His right hand rested on Gerald's shoulder and his left was clearly visible on Helga's hip. As for Helga, her cheeks had a rose tint to them, her blue eyes sparkling, a contented smile across her face. She hadn't even realized that she had put her arm around Arnold's shoulders. The picture made her chest fill with joy. _I have real friends?_ she thought. She smiled at the picture.

"Hey Arnold, you weren't kidding. Pataki _can_ smile." Gerald's comment brought her back to the moment.

She lifted her eyes to Gerald. "Kiss my ass, Geraldo." The statement was what Gerald expected but the tone wasn't. It was… playful, was the best word he could think of for it. Maybe Arnold was right after all. Maybe she wasn't the evil ice queen she made herself out to be. Gerald smiled and raised his beer in salute.

Arnold and Helga resumed their seats. Normal conversation began again and they remained far later than they should have, considering Helga, Arnold, and Gerald all had to work the next day. As they finally dispersed and went their separate ways, Helga walked to her car. The cold air nipped at her nose, but it could do nothing to stem the warmth she felt within. A warmth she wasn't sure she had ever felt before.

 **A/N: The day I was officially road certified was a big day for me. For everyone else, including my training officer, it was just like, Thursday. It was quite the anti-climax. And on my first official day solo I got forced in 4 hours early (at 3 AM) and forced to stay 4 hours late.**

 **Nep2uune: Don't forget that in this AU, Helga has really only been into Arnold for a few months as opposed to most of her life. It's a little easier for her to deal with him going on a date with someone else. Besides, Helga's not exactly _happy_ about the date. And Arnold is still dense. I think even in the show he likes Helga more than he'll admit to himself. **

**Guest: Yes, I do believe Lila's mom died. The intention there wasn't so much to make a connection to Lila, just more because it's pretty common to see deadbeat dads, less common for deadbeat moms. They do exist, and I thought mention should be made. Plus, if you recall, even Helga felt bad for Lila and liked her until she made that mistake with writing Lila's name on the wall. Helga only hated Lila because of her own actions. In this world, Helga has no particular dislike for Lila. Helga's decision to participate in the Big Sister program will be explained in another story.**

 **Do not expect Helga to wear a locket in this story. An officer that wears something around their neck on duty is taking a chance with having it used to choke them out. If you see a cop wearing a uniform with a tie, I can promise it's a clip-on.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Missing Person**

 **December 23, 2034**

"I understand sir. We'll do everything we can."

"You _have_ to find her. Please. She's our baby girl."

Arnold was busy completing the missing person packet. The Petersons hadn't seen their 15-year-old daughter, Audrey, for several hours. They had thought she had gone to her room after having an argument with her mother, but when they had gone to get her for dinner she was nowhere to be found. They searched the entire house with no success. They had called their neighbors, all of her friends, and no one knew where she was.

Arnold had completed a physical description, including what she had last been wearing, and a list of friends she may have contacted. "As soon as I'm done here this will be entered into the state system and every department in the state will be notified. We'll get patrols to start checking the area and any places she is likely to frequent. I'll start contacting friends in person. We'll do everything in our power to find her quickly."

"Please hurry. It's cold out. I'm not sure she has her jacket," her mother said. The mother had been nearly inconsolable, blaming herself for her daughter's disappearance. Arnold excused himself and went back to his car. He spent the rest of the night searching the neighborhoods, interviewing friends and acquaintances, checking homeless shelters, teen hangouts. But there was no sign of the girl anywhere.

* * *

 **2341**

Arnold was still staring at the computer screen, trying to figure out what he was going to do. He had to find this girl, and he wanted to find her before Christmas to reunite her with her family. But he had no idea where to go. He had exhausted any leads he had. If this girl didn't want to be found, then she was doing a great job at hiding. And if she had been abducted… He shook his head. _No,_ he thought. _We're going to find her._

"What're you still doing here, Football Head?"

Arnold turned to see Helga standing in the door to the road room. She had changed out of her uniform and was wearing baggy cargo pants and a hoodie. "Trying to figure out what I'm going to do about this missing girl. I have no idea where to go next."

"Oh. Well, if you need help with anything, let me know. But you're probably better off going home and getting some sleep. She's in the system, right? If she turns up, they'll call you."

He rubbed his eyes. He _was_ pretty tired. "Yeah. Yeah, you're right. Thanks Helga. I'll pick it up tomorrow." He got up and walked out to the locker room.

Helga walked to the stack of papers he left on the table. The missing person packet, depositions, phone records, lists of known associates, the report detailing where he went and who he talked to. She quickly read his report narrative. It was all very thorough. Audrey had left her phone at the house and it was sitting on the table in an evidence bag. She walked over to the locker room door and pushed it open enough to yell through.

"Hey Arnoldo, you want me to put this stuff away for you?"

"If you would, I'd really appreciate it," he called back. "You really don't have to do though. I can take care of it in a minute."

"No, I'll do it. It'll only take a minute." Helga gathered up the papers and put a binder clip on them before putting them in the "hold" file. She took the phone out of the evidence bag and turned it on. There was a password on it. She pulled out her own cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Pheebs, it's me. I need a favor."

"Sure, Helga. What is it?"

"Do you know someone that can crack a cell phone password?"

"We have a machine for that, but I'm not supposed to use it without a detective to supervise."

"What does the policy state?"

"That we must have a sworn officer to supervise the use of the machine. And a warrant."

"Meet me at the office as soon as you can. I have a phone here that needs to be cracked for a missing persons case. The victim is a minor and the parents own the phone, they gave permission to access it but didn't know the password according to the notes here. So, you don't need a warrant. I'll be your sworn officer."

"Helga, what is this _really_ about?"

Helga rolled her eyes. "Pheebs, we can talk about it when you get here. Now just hurry."

"Hurrying!" Phoebe said. Helga hung up the call. She took the evidence bag and placed it in an evidence locker. She locked the locker with the empty bag inside and slipped the phone in her pocket. She tossed the key in Arnold's mailbox and went back to the locker room. She almost ran into Arnold as he was walking out.

"Oh, hey," he said.

"Hey. I put the phone in a locker and put the key in your mailbox, so you can get it in the morning. The paperwork is in the hold file."

"Thanks Helga, I appreciate it. I owe you one."

"Don't worry about it, Hair Boy. Go get some rest so you can find your girl tomorrow."

"I will. Have a good night." He put a hand on her shoulder as he walked by. She shivered. _I hate that I love when he does that,_ she thought. _Nevermind. I just love it._

* * *

 **December 24, 1013**

Phoebe cracked the phone for Helga, allowing her to access the text messages before she snuck the phone back into the evidence locker. The last few were from a particular number that was in the phone under the name Danny Tavington. Helga looked him up on Facebook and found a number of photos that included Audrey, but Audrey hadn't been tagged in them. As such, Arnold hadn't included Danny on his list of contacts. He hadn't known Danny existed.

The last few messages included Audrey stating her desire to run away and Danny providing an address. An address that Helga, who was off duty for her weekend, was now sitting outside. It had taken her several hours to get there and she was well outside her jurisdiction. She could get fired, even arrested, for what she was about to try to do. But Arnold wanted a Christmas miracle and she was going to give it to him. She was running on almost no sleep anyway, so she gave about zero fucks.

Helga's phone began to vibrate. She checked the caller ID and rolled her eyes before answering. "Yes, Phoebe?"

"Helga, where are you?" Phoebe asked nervously.

"I'm getting this kid back. Where else would I be?"

"Helga, she's in another jurisdiction. You can't just drive out there and pick her up. You need a warrant, and you need to call the local police- "

"Pheebs, enough. It's a holiday. The chances we can get a judge out to sign a warrant today, in a completely different county where they don't know us, is next to nothing. Even if we did, by the time we jump through all the hoops and get the local PD on board, get a SWAT team here, and all that the girl could be gone. She could be gone already. We don't know if this is a kidnapping or a runaway. What if this guy sells her to a human trafficker? No, she's a missing person and we've got a limited window to get her back. This is the best way."

"Why don't you at least tell Arnold?"

"Because Arnold will follow all the rules. That's who he is. And right now, we don't have time for it. I'm not gonna let this girl get hurt because of the rules. Besides, it's better if he doesn't get his hands dirty. We need more cops like him, not bitter husks like me. Criminy, he'd probably turn me in himself."

"I doubt that. What are you going to do?" Phoebe asked quietly.

Helga sighed. "It's better if you don't know. It's not conspiracy if you're out of the loop. It'll be fine, Phoebe. I know what I'm doing. I'll catch you later." Before Phoebe could reply Helga ended the call.

Helga got out of the car and approached the house. It was a rundown apartment building in a decaying blue-collar town. It definitely fit the profile for a heroin den. She knocked on the door and was pretty sure she was going to get tetanus just from touching it. There was no answer. She knocked again, banging harder.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming."

A tall, skinny, white male with mussed blond hair answered the door. He wore nothing but boxers. His feet were filthy. He looked Helga over.

"Damn girl, you look a lot better than my usual clientele. How much you want?"

"I'm not buying, Danny. Where's Audrey?"

"Who?"

Helga jabbed a finger into his chest. "Don't play dumb with me, bucko. I know she came to see you. So, where the fuck is she?"

"Bitch, I don't know who you're talking about. Now get the fuck outta here." He tried to shut the door, but Helga had already put her foot inside the room. The door bounced off her foot and flung back open.

She pulled out her badge. "Listen shit head, I'm here for the girl. Now if you don't want to get whole operation shut down, you're going to tell me where she is. Otherwise, I'm going to beat you senseless until you do, capiche?"

Danny folded his arms across his narrow chest. "You can't fuckin' do shit. Scrawny bit- "Helga punched him square in the jaw and pushed by him into the house, finding herself in the kitchen. "Oh, you fucking BITCH!"

"Yeah, yeah. Put some ice on it, you'll be fine. Now, where is she?"

"Get the fuck outta my house!" he yelled. He turned and reached for a knife from the kitchen counter but stopped when he heard the sound of metal scraping on Kydex. He slowly turned back and was looking down the barrel of Helga's handgun.

"Easy there, slim." He pulled his hand back. "Here's the deal. Audrey is fifteen. That makes her a minor and you a kidnapper. So, if you would prefer _not_ to go to prison for next twenty years, just tell me where she is. I'll take her out of here and you never have to see her or me ever again."

Danny dabbed at his bleeding lip with the back of his hand. "She's in the back."

"Now was that so hard? Take me back there and keep your hands where I can see them."

The house was filled with food garbage, cigarette butts, and used needles. Helga needed a shower just having entered the place. He took her into what could only be called a bedroom by the most generous of standards. The linoleum floor was covered in pizza boxes and a filthy mattress laid in one corner. Audrey sat on the mattress, looking terrified. Helga pushed Danny toward the closet on the side of the room.

"Get in there," she ordered. He glared at her but did as he was told. She shut the door on him. "Don't come out until we leave." She turned to the girl. "Audrey, I presume?" The girl nodded. "I'm Deputy Pataki. I'm here to take you home, okay?" The girl nodded again. Helga holstered her weapon and took the girl by the hand. She led her back through the disgusting hovel and out to her car.

Helga waited until they were down the road before turning to Audrey again. "Are you hungry?" The girl nodded. "You like pancakes?"

Audrey smiled for the first time. "Yes."

"Good. Let's go get some pancakes, then I'll take you home. How does that sound?"

"Okay."

"Awesome. And then we're going to talk about how you choose your friends, kiddo."

* * *

 **December 25, 0005**

Arnold had searched high and low all day for the missing girl but had no more luck than he had the day before. He was still waiting for a Detective to get in touch with him about cracking the cell phone, but none were around on the holiday and they weren't going to come out for a case involving a runaway since it didn't appear to be an abduction. Arnold was at a loss. He had no idea what he was going to tell the family. But the girl did not seem to be anywhere in the county.

"Uh, Arnold, there's someone here to see you."

Arnold looked up to see Gerald standing behind a teenaged girl. His eyes widened in shock. "Audrey Peterson?" The girl nodded. "How did you get here?"

"Um, someone gave me a ride," she replied.

"Who?"

"They asked me not to say."

Arnold jumped out of his chair. "Gerald, stay with her." Arnold ran past the two startled people in the doorway and ran out of the road room. He burst through the employee door and ran into the parking lot in time to see a pair of tail lights turn onto the main road and disappear from sight.

 **Note: This chapter is pure cop fantasy bullshit. No cop I know would do this. Helga commits several felonies (burglarly, menacing, and unlawful imprisonment at a minimum, plus misdemeanor assault) and a civil rights violation here. She could end up spending most of the rest of her life in prison. But it doesn't mean a cop wouldn't WANT to do this to get a kid back. Anyway, this is my least favorite chapter in the whole thing, so I'm just glad it's out of the way.**

 **And Helga needed the obligatory Christmas Angel role.**

 **Kryten: My taste as well. There's a bit of myself in both characters.**

 **Nep2uune: I tend to agree. I think Gerald saw more than he let on. Probably because of his dislike for Helga.**

 **Guest: Helga doesn't want to be alone, but she's more afraid of being hurt than being lonely. She also feels she's unworthy of love, so while she may indeed be tired of the lack of affection, she "understands" it. The only thing that protects her, in her own mind, is the angry, aloof persona she's built around herself.**

 **Ajay: As always, appreciate the kind words. There's plenty more coming. I should have a few more chapters up by midweek. And I look forward to your next chapter in Silencing Nature!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Theater Fight**

 **January 22, 1951**

"One zero seven to Sheriff's Office."

"Sheriff's Office on, one zero seven."

"Checked the building. All appears secure. False alarm. Show me clear."

"Received, one zero seven. One zero seven, patrol to the Cinema 12 on Grant Avenue. Papa Sierra three two six and Mercyside PD Unit two are out at that location with several intoxicated subjects. Unknown disturbance at that location."

"One zero seven en route." Arnold hung up the microphone and started patrolling to the movie theater. He was only a few miles away. He was halfway there when the radio popped again.

"Sheriff's Office to Papa Sierra three two six or Mercyside two, checking your status."

The silence continued. Arnold accelerated just a little bit. _They're probably in the building and can't hear on their portables,_ he thought.

"Sheriff's Office to Papa Sierra three two six or Mercyside two, checking your status."

Again, the silence continued. _Okay, maybe that's not good._

"Sheriff's Office to three two six or unit 2, status."

"One zero seven, Sheriff's Office. Upgrading response to priority one." He flipped on the lights and activated the sirens. _They should have heard from someone by now, even by phone._

"Received one zero seven. Sheriff's Office to zero one zero, be advised negative contact with units at the location. What's your pleasure?"

"Zero one zero. I'll be en route to assist. One zero seven, advise of status on arrival."

"One zero seven, copy direct." Arnold was worried now. He was pushing one hundred miles per hour in a forty, which thankfully was mostly empty at this time on a frigid night. Helga was usually good at giving status updates, even when she had spotty radio coverage. He braked hard and pulled up in front of the theater. The other patrol cars were parked out front. He got out and ran to the front doors. He wasn't quite prepared for the scene inside.

* * *

 **January 22, 1945**

Helga and the part time Mercyside officer had been called for a disturbance in the theater. A couple of drunks were yelling at the movie screen and disturbing the other patrons. Theater staff had asked them to leave and they had refused, so now they were going to be physically removed or arrested for trespassing. Helga had arrived after the Mercyside cop, who had managed to get the drunkards out of the theater and into the lobby, but now everyone was yelling. The drunks wanted their money back, the theater staff just wanted them gone, and the Mercyside officer was outnumbered eight to one.

She walked up to the officer. "What's going on?"

"Theater staff wants them out, but they won't go. I gotta be honest, I don't know what to do here other than call for more units. These guys are gonna be a handful."

"Alright. First let's just see if we can push them out."

Helga and the officer walked behind the group and started to gently push members of the crowd toward the door. That did not go over well.

"Who the fuck you think you touchin'? You can't touch me!"

"Listen bub, they want you out, you're going out," she replied. _God I hate drunks._

"They promised me a refund, and I ain't leavin' til I get my money."

"Just go outside and they'll come and figure it out. But you can't stay here." Helga pushed him a bit more forcefully.

"Yo, fuck you, bitch!" the man pushed her back.

Helga gave him a malicious stare. "Who said you could touch me?" she growled. The man spat on her uniform.

Then it was on.

* * *

 **2002**

When Arnold walked in, it was already pandemonium. The lobby was divided into two sections by a set of double doors. The first section, which was currently unoccupied, held the box office. The second section held the concession stand and an unruly crowd.

Helga and the Mercyside cop were wrestling with a man on the ground just inside the second set of doors while half a dozen others gathered around yelling about police brutality. Another man was running around in handcuffs yelling something about how he wasn't allowed to go to the movie theater. And an off-duty sergeant from Sheriff's Office was desperately trying to keep the crowd away from the two cops that were fighting with the suspect. The sergeant shoved one man back through the doors and went back in to push the crowd back. In Arnold's rush to get into the mix and help, he forgot to contact the duty sergeant to advise him of the situation.

The man that had been pushed into the outer lobby tried to get past Arnold and back into the second area. Arnold put a hand on his chest.

"Stay here," Arnold said forcefully.

"Fuck you, you can't abuse a man like that!"

Arnold turned and glared at him. "You either stay here or I'm arresting you for obstruction, you got it?"

The man stared at him but stayed where he was. Arnold entered the main lobby and immediately started pushing people away from the two wrestling officers. People were getting dangerously close to Helga's sidearm, trying to grab both her and the Mercyside officer and pull them off of the man on the ground. They were screaming "He's got two broken hips!" and "He's mentally retarded!" but Arnold had dealt with that man before. He was a known drug dealer and gang member. He had broken his hips in a car accident a year prior but had long since recovered, and while he was definitely stupid, he was not mentally disabled. After a few minutes of jockeying, Helga and the Mercyside Officer had the man handcuffed. They tried to stand him up, but he kicked his legs around and fell backwards into the two officers.

This enraged the crowd. "You can't abuse him like that!" Two men ran straight at the officers. One tackled the Mercyside officer, the other pushed Helga on her back. That _was a big mistake, buddy._ Suspects and officers rolled through the double doors and ended up in the outer jumped on the man that had taken down the Mercyside officer. He heard Helga snarl as she swept the leg of her attacker out from under him. She and the sergeant pounced on him and began struggling for control of his hands. Arnold had pushed the other man into the wall, and the Mercyside officer was back on his feet. They fought for control of the man's hands but couldn't get them. He was strong, and he was drunk. He wasn't feeling any pressure points or pain compliance. But no one in the room wanted to escalate force to tasers or pepper spray, as it would surely enrage the rest of the crowd. Even with two suspects in cuffs already, they were outnumbered at least six to four by the remaining subjects, and the four of them were currently only able to control two suspects. The Mercyside officer couldn't get the suspect's hands behind his back, but he had a firm hold on both wrists. He looked at Arnold.

"I've got him if you wanna call for backup."

Arnold looked around the room quickly. The Sergeant had his man under control although not secured, and Helga was back on top of the man she had originally been fighting with. She was rolling him on his side to pat him down. Her hair was a mess, she had a glob of spit on her uniform shirt, and the fury on her face was plain to anyone in the room. Which was probably why no one from the crowd bothered her and instead focused on Arnold and the Mercyside officer. Helga looked up and made eye contact with him.

"This guy needs an ambulance."

"Got it." Arnold disengaged from his suspect and removed his radio. He had no reception in the building so he walked outside. He switched his frequency to 911. "One zero seven to 911, we're going to need EMS to the scene for one male patient, unknown injury."

"Received one zero seven. Your dispatch is attempting to reach you. Are you secure at that location?"

Arnold turned back to look into the lobby and saw Helga and the sergeant were again rolling with a suspect while the Mercyside officer and the other man flopped to the ground, struggling.

"Negative. We're going to need assistance."

Arnold didn't wait for a reply and ran back inside. He jumped in with the Mercyside officer and grabbed one of the suspect's wrists. He got that hand behind his back, but the man was laying facedown on the floor and the other hand was under his body.

"We just gotta keep this from getting any worse for a few more minutes. I called the cavalry."

"Thank God," the officer panted. "This is getting old fast."

It wasn't long before they heard the sirens of approaching patrols. State, County, Town, Village, and City officers from all over the county began flooding the lobby and the crowd was finally subdued. Six members of the crowd were arrested for charges ranging from trespass to resisting arrest and assault on an officer. After Arnold's suspect was finally cuffed and dragged to a patrol car, he walked over to Helga. They were both exhausted, dirty, and soaked in sweat.

"You alright?"

She blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. "I'm fine. You should see the other guy."

"I saw him. But only one? You must be losing your edge, Pataki."

She gave him an impatient look before putting her hand on his shoulder and pushing him. "Fuck off, Shortman," she said with a laugh.

"Hey Helga," he said seriously.

She looked at him with concern in her eyes. "What?"

"You've got something on your shirt," he deadpanned.

Her blue eyes flashed anger. "Kiss my ass," she yelled as she punched him in the arm.

 **A/N: Real call. I'm still not sure what exactly started the fight (I would have been Arnold in this scenario), but I heard a suspect spit on one of the responding officers. Spitting on someone is considered assault in my state because of the possibility of transmitting diseases. I sprained a finger; another cop suffered a severe ankle injury that required surgery. It was six months before he could return to duty. A total of five or six arrests were made by the responding agency. I have never seen so many patrol cars in one spot in my life. Approximately 15 cars and 20 officers responded to the scene after the request for assistance, which was probably every patrol in the county.**

 **Nep2uune: In my experience (I'm not working off of statistics here, purely anecdotal) most missing persons aren't actually missing and are found within a few days. They're usually out doing something they shouldn't be and don't want to tell anyone where they are. In my state, there is no minimum amount of time someone needs to be gone to be declared missing, so many of the reports happen because loved ones can't get in touch with them. Then they reappear a short time later. I've only seen one that ended in tragedy, though it was quite tragic indeed.**

 **Guest: I probably should have been more specific in creating the scene, but Helga's car was at least a quarter mile down the road when he saw it. I don't envision her driving something like a Jeep Wrangler or one of the newer Dodge models that have very distinctive tail lights, so Arnold wouldn't really be able to ID the vehicle at the distance he was at even to make and model, let alone specifically who it was. Also, random piece of advice to readers; if you drive a Subaru, check your plate lamps on the regular. It's one of the most frequent equipment violations I stop for. Along with Prius headlights.**

 **Ajay: Glad you liked it. Up to this point I feel that the story has been very realistic, so perhaps that's why I dislike this chapter so much. Even later chapters that are based off of incidents I haven't experienced myself are based off of research on the topics that I've done on my own time, so they should also be more realistic than this one.**

 **As always, questions and comments are encouraged.**


	19. Chapter 19

**Helga's Couch**

 **January 25, 1822**

"You two know how to throw a party, I'll give you that," Gerald said as he put the drinks on the table. "I know I'm new, but I've never seen that many police cars in one place before."

Arnold laughed. "Yeah, well I hardly expected every cop in the county to show up when I said we needed some more help."

Helga snorted and crossed her arms. "I wish they hadn't showed up. Then I would've had an excuse to lump them up a bit more."

Gerald rolled his eyes. "I know you're crazy, Pataki, but there's no sense in staying in a fight like that outnumbered."

She smiled menacingly a Gerald. "C'mon Geraldo. It's not a fight 'til I take out the baton." She flexed her hand. "I didn't even get to use ol' Betsy here."

"Somehow, I'm glad I haven't seen that. What is it with you two and getting into weird calls?"

Helga jerked a thumb at Arnold. "I can't help it that chuckle head here is a shit magnet."

Arnold raised his hand. "Guilty as charged on that one. No clue why I get the weird calls." He looked over at Helga. "At least you're always there to get me out of trouble." He gave her a wink.

Helga sat up straight. "Uh, who wants mozzarella sticks? I'm gonna get some mozzarella sticks," she said and quickly got up to go to the bar.

Gerald watched her go. "Man, is she really that much of a beast as everyone says?"

Arnold smiled. "Let's just say they're lucky they didn't escalate use of force any further. If she got to use her fists or God forbid that baton, I don't think any of them would have walked out under their own power."

"Mmmm mmmm mmmm. No wonder she's not fit for polite company." Phoebe elbowed him in the side and gave him a glare. "What'd I say?"

"There is nothing wrong with Helga, Gerald. She's just… Helga." Phoebe's look softened. "She has her reasons."

"Yeah, well, I'm glad she's on our side." He looked over at Arnold. "Ever find out anything else about your missing person?"

Arnold frowned and shook his head as Helga returned to the table. "She won't tell us who dropped her off, where she went, or who she was with. She disappeared into thin air and reappeared the same way."

Gerald took a sip of his beer. "Well, you've got some sort of angel lookin' over you."

"I guess so. I would just like to thank whoever did it," Arnold said.

Phoebe looked over at Helga, who cast her gaze at the table sadly, but with the barest hint of smile at the edges of her mouth. Phoebe shook her head. _She has never understood her worth,_ she thought. Phoebe looked back at a pensive Arnold. _Hopefully he will. One day._

* * *

"I'm going to give Gerald a ride home tonight," Phoebe said. Helga froze, then turned her head toward her friend slowly.

"So, you're going to make me take the bus?" she asked.

Arnold cleared his throat. "I can take you home if you'd like. I was Gerald's ride."

Helga could hear her heart pounding in her ears. _Oh no. No, he can't give me a ride home. What if I say something stupid? We're not at work, I can't just talk about work stuff to change the subject._

"Thanks Football Head, but I'll be alright on the bus. Besides, it's probably out of your way."

"I really don't mind, Helga. It's not like you live that far from here."

 _Stop being so God damned chivalrous!_ Helga looked at Phoebe for help, but the girl simply winked at her. _Traitor!_

"Fine. But no funny business, mister." _Why'd I say that? He probably wasn't even_ thinking _that. Way to make it weird, Pataki._

Arnold laughed. He removed her jacket from the back of her chair and offered it to her. "Thanks, Arnoldo, but I _think_ I can manage my own jacket." She snatched it roughly from his hands and put it on. _Keep it together, old girl. You spent forty hours a week for almost three months in a car with him. What's a 15-minute ride now?_

They walked out to Arnold's car, he reached for her door, but she lunged forward and got it first. "I can take care of myself, Hair Boy."

Arnold smirked at her. "Whatever you say Helga."

"Damn right." _You're killing me with this gentleman stuff._

Their ride began in awkward silence. Helga kept her hands in her lap and bounced her knee nervously.

 _You're acting like a child, Pataki,_ she thought. _You had no problem talking to him at work, and now you're behaving like a bashful high school freshman._

"So, I took your advice," Arnold finally said.

"Oh? Which advice would that be? I've bestowed much wisdom upon you."

"I watched Deep Space Nine."

She raised an eyebrow. "And…?"

"It was good. The first few seasons were meh. Kinda the standard Star Trek type stuff. But you were right about some of those later seasons. The moral gray areas made for some good stories."

"I _told_ you. I still can't believe you hadn't watched it. Next you're going to tell me you haven't seen Firefly or something."

Arnold furrowed his brow. "Firefly?"

She bowed her head and facepalmed. "Arnold, you're killing me."

"What? I've never even heard of that one."

They were pulling up in front of Helga's apartment building. "Park the car."

"Uh, I thought I'd just let you out here."

"No, you're coming in and you're borrowing my Firefly and Serenity DVDs."

He looked at her. "You still use DVDs?"

"Park the damn car, Shortman." Helga's anxieties were temporarily forgotten.

They entered the apartment and Helga walked into the kitchen, putting her keys on the table. Arnold stopped in the entry hallway. She turned back to him. "What are you doing?"

He scratched the back of his neck. "Well, the last time I went any further I got in trouble…"

Helga rolled her eyes. "You can come in." Her tone was exasperated. "But if you touch that pink book, I _will_ cut your hands off, you copy?"

He smirked and gave her a sloppy salute. "Received, Deputy Pataki."

"Loser," she said. She turned around and gave herself a secret smile.

Arnold walked into the apartment and sat down on her couch. He still marveled at the incredible collection of books packed into her modest apartment. He watched her as she dug around a stack of DVD boxes next to her TV. She was wearing her baggy cargo pants and a leather bomber jacket, her ponytail tied up, as always, with the pink ribbon. She had dropped the angry and distant persona in her excitement, and Arnold couldn't deny that she was attractive when she loosened up.

"Ah, here it is." She turned around with several DVDs in her hand. Arnold was smiling at her. "What? Is there something on my butt?" She turned around in attempt to see if something was stuck to the seat of her pants.

Arnold laughed. "No, nothing on your butt. I was just thinking how nice it is when you loosen up a little."

"Oh, ah, yeah, well…" she looked away from him, a slight blush on her cheeks, and grabbed her elbow. "Well, take these with you and let me know what you think. You can bring them back to me next time we go to the bar."

Arnold took the DVDs and looked at his watch. "It's still early. Wanna watch one now?"

Helga's eyes got wide. _He wants to watch it here? With me? What do I do?_

Helga pretended to check her watch. "Well, I guess I could watch one. You, uh, wanna put it in while I change real quick?"

"Sure."

He shuffled through the DVD cases while Helga went into her bedroom and shut the door. _What the hell am I doing?_ She changed out of her clothes and into sweat pants and a baggy t-shirt. _Jesus, this is stupid. This is what I wear to bed and he's going to see me in it!_ She decided to put a sweatshirt on too, feeling that the shapeless t-shirt was too immodest. She cautiously opened the door and walked out. She shyly walked over to the couch and sat down heavily next to Arnold. He smiled at her. She was glad it was dark because she knew she was blushing badly. She pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Football Head? Start it up."

Arnold chuckled. "Whatever you say, Helga."

The first episode was an hour and a half, but Helga didn't make it that long. She was asleep long before it ended, curled up with her head on the arm of the couch. Arnold went into her bedroom and returned with a blanket. He covered her gently and tucked her in as best he could. She shifted and moaned softly.

"Arnold…" she whispered.

He placed a hand on hers and gave it a gentle squeeze before quietly letting himself out of the apartment and heading home.

 **A/N: Nep2uune: One officer required surgery, so I'd say that's fairly serious. He'll probably have diminished functionality in that ankle the rest of his life. None of the suspects suffered serious injuries as far as I'm aware, even the one that was taken in the ambulance.**

 **Ajay: If it had just been him and Helga, it wouldn't have been a fair fight. She'd have wiped the floor with him. We would have been justified in using additional force (pepper spray, tasers, even batons), but when you're outnumbered and the opponents aren't throwing punches, you have to weigh how that escalation would affect the remainder of the crowd and everyone else's ability to work. For example, deploying pepper spray in that lobby would have had a negative effect on the officers as well as the suspects. If they had started throwing punches or grabbing for guns though, all bets are off. Punches automatically warrant a response from pepper, tasers, or batons. If someone goes for your gun, they're not trying to start tickle fight, they're trying to kill you. That's a lethal force encounter.**

 **Guest: That's the nature of the job, unfortunately. 99% of your calls are predictable, which causes complacency. It's the 1% or so that get difficult. It's rare that calls devolve into physical altercations, but when it does it usually gets out of control fast. This is one of the reasons cops tend to try to exert their authority from the start and tend to come off as hostile or unpleasant. People tend to forget that when the cops are involved something is already wrong, and we have to make sure it doesn't get worse.**


	20. Chapter 20

**NOTE: It wouldn't save my formatting so text messages are in bold type.**

 **Mixed Feelings**

 **January 27, 1729**

Helga was bored. It was cold, and traffic was light. People just didn't drive when it was too cold out, and those that did rarely did anything worth pulling them over for. There did come a point when it was essentially too cold to crime, and the world had reached that point. She sat on the side of the road, running radar at the few cars the braved the frigid winds. Her phone dinged.

Phoebe: **I haven't heard from you in two days! What happened with Arnold?!**

Helga sighed. **Nothing. He brought me home. I invited him to watch a show. I fell asleep**

Phoebe: **You let him in your apartment?! And You watched a show together?! That's great!**

Helga: **It would have been if I had stayed awake. I didn't make it through the first episode**

Phoebe: **Well, what did he do?**

Helga: **He covered me in a blanket and let himself out, I guess**

Phoebe: **Helga, that's adorable! You should ask him to come over again and watch something!**

Helga: **Why would he want to do that? If he had really wanted to stay he would have**

Phoebe: **I'm sure he would have if you hadn't fallen asleep! I'm proud of you for asking him to stay though!**

Helga thought for a moment. **Actually, HE kinda asked to stay and watch one**

Phoebe: **Helga, how can you sit there and tell me he's not interested if he ASKED to stay and watch with you?**

Helga looked up at the radar. _78? Eh, I'll get the next one._ **He probably just felt sorry for me because you and Gerald went off to do your thing. Speaking of, how did THAT go?**

Phoebe: **It went fine. Better than fine. But don't change the subject!**

Helga: **No way, missy. "Better than fine" requires explanation. Spill**

Phoebe: **Well, I walked him to his door.**

Helga: **And…?**

Phoebe: **Well… he kissed me on the cheek!**

Helga smiled. She personally wasn't a huge fan of Gerald, and she knew Gerald wasn't a fan of her either. But he made Phoebe happy, and he was best friends with Arnold, so he must have some redeeming qualities she couldn't see herself. **That's great Pheebs! I'm happy for you!**

Phoebe: **We're going to a movie next week. It's very exciting.**

Helga: **Well you've practically been dating for months now, you just didn't admit it**

Phoebe: **Oh stop. Now, back to you. There is NO way Arnold felt bad for you. I think he might actually like you**.

Helga frowned. **Not in a million years, Pheebs. And he can't know I'm crazy about him, either**

Phoebe: **But why, Helga? If you just told him how you feel, I know he wouldn't hurt your feelings. He's not like that.**

Helga shook her head. **You know why. I just can't take the rejection. I don't deserve him**

Phoebe: **Helga, I really hope that one day you will see yourself as I do. You're a wonderful person and you deserve the best.**

Helga: **Thanks Pheebs. Who knows, maybe one day, I'll agree with you. I gotta go. Traffic stop**

Helga put down her phone. She didn't have a car to stop. She just didn't want to talk about it anymore. She opened the photo gallery on her phone and looked at the selfie from the bar. She sighed as she gazed at Arnold with his arm around her.

She knew her worth, and it was counted in tickets and arrests, not in love given or received.

* * *

Arnold and Gerald were sitting in the corner booth of the diner, so they could see their parked patrol cars through the window. They had been lucky enough to get zone assignments that night that were not only adjacent to one another but had a diner on the border.

"So, Gerald," Arnold said after they had placed their order. "How was your night with Phoebe?" He gave Gerald a half-lidded grin.

"Oh, uh, it was good. You know, she brought me home and whatever. No big deal." Gerald started playing with the ketchup bottle on the table.

"Gerald, you seem a little… tense. As though there's something you're not telling me." If there was one thing Arnold knew, it was how to get a rise out of his friend.

"Tense? Not tense. Everything's fine. Just, you know, drove me home, and walked me to the door and such, and…" Gerald pulled the menu back out of the holder next to the napkin dispenser. "Maybe I should have gotten the biscuits and gravy instead."

"Gerald. Did something, I don't know, _happen_ when you were outside your door?"

"I kissed her, okay!" He dropped the menu on the table. "I kissed her on the cheek. Nothing big, alright? Damn, you're a pain in my ass."

Arnold grinned at him. "Was that so hard to tell me? I assume it went over well."

"Why would you assume that?"

Arnold rolled his eyes. "Gerald, you two have been pretty transparent in your feelings for each other for months. It was bound to happen at some point. Even Helga saw it coming."

Gerald took the opportunity to change the subject. "Speaking of Helga, what happened with _you_ two that night? Did you get some sugar yourself?"

Arnold shook his head. "We're not like that, Gerald. Just friends from being partners." He reached up and scratched the back of his neck, signaling to Gerald he wasn't getting the whole story.

"Now you're the tense one. Give it to me."

"Well, we were talking about TV shows in the car, and she asked if I had seen this particular show and I said I hadn't, so she invited me in to get her DVDs."

Gerald's eyes got wide and he smiled. "She actually let you back in after what happened the first time?"

"That's what I was thinking. So, she got the DVDs and I…" he shifted uncomfortably. "I asked if she had time to watch an episode before I left."

Gerald dropped his spoon into the cup of coffee he had been stirring. "You did _what_ now?"

"I, uh, asked to stay and watch a show. What's wrong with that? We're friends. We can watch things together you know."

Gerald put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands in front of him. "She's Helga G. Pataki. Helga the Harpy, a plague to motorists, reaper of souls, destroyer of- "

Arnold put up his hands in surrender. "Yeah, I get it. But that's not all she is, Gerald. You should have seen her when she was looking for the show. She was so excited, almost giddy."

"Helga Pataki was giddy," Gerald deadpanned. It wasn't really a question, since he already didn't believe it.

"Well, yeah. When she drops her guard she's a whole different person. It's kinda…" Arnold stopped. _Uh oh. He's not gonna let you forget it if you say the next word._

"Kinda what, Shortman?"

"Uh, well, you know… cute."

Gerald suddenly pointed at him, his finger coming at lightening speed. He leaned forward. "I fucking _knew_ it. You have a thing for Pataki, don't you?" he said in a low, menacing tone.

"Gerald, it's not like that- "

"Don't you lie to me, son. I can see right through you. You _do_. Is this going to be like Ruth McDougal in grade school?"

"No, it's not. Because I'm not into Helga. We're friends. And God knows she needs one."

Gerald leaned back and crossed his arms. "Okay, hotshot. So, what did she do after Arnold Shortman, the boldest of the bold, and most foolish of the foolhardy, asked Pataki the Plunderer to basically Netflix and chill?"

Arnold raised an eyebrow. "Pataki the Plunderer? Is she a Viking warrior now?" _She'd probably look good as a Valkyrie…_

"It sounded better in my head. Stop dodging."

Arnold looked down at the table and started tapping his fingers together. "She, uh, she changed into her sweats and we sat on the couch. She fell asleep before the end, so I put a blanket on her and left. See? No big deal."

Gerald hadn't moved. He was still staring at Arnold with his arms crossed. "Was there canoodling?"

Arnold laughed despite himself. "No, there was no canoodling."

"Arnold, you saw the beast in her _pajamas_. I don't think you realize the importance of that."

"What do you mean?"

"It means she's capable of mimicking human behavior."

Arnold was getting a little tired of Gerald's constant insinuations that Helga was an animal or monster. "Gerald, she's a real person like the rest of us. She puts up walls around herself, and I don't know most of the reasons why, but she's a good person under all that."

"I'll believe it when I see it. I'm going to have to keep a close eye on you. To keep you from doing something stupid."

"Nothing's going to happen Gerald. We're just friends. I don't think of her in a romantic way at all." Their food arrived, and Arnold was thankful for the conversation to end. _This is nothing like Ruth,_ he thought. _Helga is_ much _more interesting._

 **A/N: If you want to know what cops are doing when they're running radar, look up "What cops are really doing when you see them parked in the median" by Officer Baker on YouTube. That pretty much sums it up. And diner conversations with your zone neighbor are usually… interesting.**

 **Nep2uune: Of course, Gerald will try to talk Arnold out of it. He has a severe dislike for the woman, and of course he only ever sees her being generally shitty to him. When they're alone in the car, their relationship is one way. When there are others around, Helga's pride gets in the way. Which leads us to…**

 **Guest: Exactly right. If in the show Helga was worried about being seen as soft, it's twenty times worse at a police department. It's generally a man's profession (only about 12% of American police officers are women), and not just that but it's an alpha male's profession. It's basically a bunch of high school jocks with guns. That's not meant to be an insult; it takes a certain personality to do the job, and nice guys have a hard time with it. That being said, other personality types do have roles to play. You need administrators, technical sergeants, civil deputies, dive team members, helicopter pilots, car seat specialists, school resource officers, etc. A-type personalities are not really appropriate for school resource positions, for example. Helga is an alpha female trying to make it in an alpha male's world. She basically** _ **has**_ **to protect her rep just to survive in the road room. It's much the same on the road. While some women can sweet talk male suspects, generally males will challenge female officers. They need to establish their dominance in the situation early. If they show they're not going to back down and they're willing to go hands on, they'll have a much easier career.**

 **The next chapter is a true story. I know I don't usually mention the forthcoming chapter, but I feel the need to emphasize it because it's a really strange one.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Ghost Stories**

 **A/N: My editor has been AWOL all week, so this hasn't been reviewed. Please PM or review with any mistakes and I'll fix them post-haste.**

 **February 13, 1851**

Helga's phone rang, making the red alert noise from Star Trek. _Great,_ she thought. _Dispatch is calling._

"Pataki," she answered.

"Hey Helga."

"Hey Eugene. Whatcha got for me?"

"You want A line overtime tonight?"

Helga frowned. She didn't need the money, and she generally hated being up all night. "Not really. Who's it with?"

"Uhh, looks like Shortman got- "

"Yeah, I'll do it," she interrupted, before groaning inwardly. _Way to sound like you don't want to work with Arnold,_ she thought.

"Okay. Thanks Helga."

"Don't mention it."

* * *

 **2245**

Arnold walked into the road room and found Helga leaning against the gun locker while the outgoing shift did their paperwork at the computers. "Hey Helga."

"Your car or mine, Football Head?" Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked first at Helga, then Arnold. Arnold blushed.

"Uh, I take it you're my A line partner tonight?"

Helga took some small delight in his discomfort, even if she hadn't meant it to sound like they were setting up some sort of hookup or date. "You got that right, bucko. Three two six or one zero seven?"

"I'll drive. And I know how you feel about people driving your car, so we'll take one zero seven."

"Alright, I'll unload my car and meet you out there."

* * *

 **February 14, 0322**

Arnold and Helga had both worked the C line before starting the midnight shift, and they were both exhausted. They decided to park behind a vacant primary school building, long empty after the district consolidated to one building, and sleep for an hour. They had just nodded off when the radio crackled.

"911 to patrols in the area of 599 Sleepy Hollow Drive, cross streets County Route 74A and Sleepy Hollow South. Caller reports her boyfriend is hearing ghosts and threatening to kill her. Firearms in the residence."

They had been groggy, but they were both wide awake now. "One zero seven en route."

Arnold activated the lights and pulled out of their hiding spot while Helga removed the patrol rifle from the rack and kept it at the ready. They were at least 10 minutes from the location, which was more than enough time to run any number of horrible scenarios through their heads.

Sleepy Hollow Drive was as creepy as one would expect for a road of that name. It was totally unlit, pretty much the middle of nowhere in the least populated part of the county. Dark trees overhung the road and it was both unseasonably warm and it had rained. With the snow on the ground, this caused a ground-hugging fog to drift across the road.

"Shit!" Arnold yelled and slammed on the brakes. Helga probably would have said something about hearing him curse for the second time if a woman hadn't appeared in the mist. She was running at them in the middle of the road, screaming hysterically and waving her arms. Arnold got out and started trying to direct the woman into the patrol car while Helga racked a round into the rifle and jumped out. There were dark houses on both sides of the street and Helga had no idea where this woman had come from. She kept the rifle at a low ready and kept checking from one house to the next, looking for any sign of movement or light, any indication that someone might be hunting this woman with a gun in the night.

"Get in the car!" Arnold was saying. "We can figure it out later! Just get in the car so we can get you safe!" It took some convincing but finally Arnold got the woman secured in the vehicle. Helga stayed outside while Arnold desperately tried to figure out where she had come from. None of the houses in the area had visible numbers. "Helga! She says it's about a quarter mile further down!" he called out.

Helga climbed back in and they drove to the incident location. The woman began frantically pointing at a small white farmhouse a short distance up the road. "That's it! That's the house right there!"

Arnold stopped the car and lit the house up as best he could with the various lights on the patrol car. "One zero seven, Sheriff's Office. We're out at last. Start a second unit. Location of suspect unknown at this time."

Helga had the door open and was resting the rifle on it, keeping it pointed at the house. "Where was he when you last saw him?" she asked the woman.

"H-h-he was in the b-bedroom."

"Where is that? Which windows?"

"Second floor on the right." Arnold adjusted the spot to the windows she indicated, and Helga focused her attention there.

"What was he doing when you left?" Arnold asked.

"He was sleeping."

That caught their attention. Helga leaned back into the car and shot a confused look at Arnold. He shrugged. She turned to the woman in the cage. "What do you mean he was sleeping? I thought he was hearing ghosts that were telling him to kill you?" _Did we hear this call wrong, or was it dispatched wrong?_ she thought.

"He was asleep. I heard the ghosts telling him to pick up the gun on the nightstand and shoot me with it."

Helga rolled her eyes. _Oh, so_ you _are the crazy one._ "Ma'am- "

The woman thrust her phone through the partition. "I recorded it, listen!" She hit play on the phone and an audio file began to play, but there were no noises that either of them could hear. They looked at each other again. "Did you hear them?!" the woman asked excitedly.

"Uh, no. What did they say?"

"They said 'pick up the gun and shoot the bitch.' Here, I'll play it again." She did, but they still heard nothing. Helga took the phone and held it close to her ear, but she still heard nothing but white noise. The recording ended. "You heard it right?"

"Um, how many times have you heard the ghosts?"

"All the time. They're singing right now. I'm surprised you can't hear it."

Helga shook her head. _This call is going to get out of control._ The second patrol car finally arrived. Patty Smith and Sid got out, Patty carrying the patrol rifle. "Suspect last seen in the bedroom, top right windows," Helga called out.

"Can… can I call his daughter?"

"I guess," Arnold said. "Where is she?"

"Oh, she's in the house."

Helga's head snapped around. _We have someone else in the house?_ "Where in the house?"

"Her bedroom is on the first floor."

"How old is his daughter?"

"She's twelve."

 _Oh, fuck me._ Helga walked over to Patty, who was the senior deputy on the scene. She was on the phone with the shift sergeant. Helga could overhear the conversation.

"Do you want us to go in and get this guy, or do you want us to call him out on the PA?" Patty asked.

Helga could hear the sergeant on the line. "Where are you? What are you doing? I didn't even hear the call. I'm on my way to a domestic."

Helga interrupted. "Patty, we've got a twelve-year old in there on the first floor."

Patty frowned. "And we have no idea where the suspect is, if he's armed, or what his mental state is?" she asked.

"No. We've got nothing. I think this lady is a fruit loop, but we don't know if he's just as nuts."

Patty hung up the phone. "Alright, here's the deal. We're going in and getting the kid out. Sid will take her back outside- "

"You're sidelining me?" Sid asked plaintively.

Patty glared at him. "Sid, I'm on SWAT so I'm going in on point. Shortman and Pataki don't have kids. You do. You don't need to go after this guy. It's not personal." Sid looked hurt but nodded. She turned back to Helga. "Once the kid is secure back here, we locate this guy in the house and secure him. We go quiet. If he's still asleep like she says, then we can do this without him knowing we're in the house until we have him detained. Try not to make any noise. If this guy wakes up and thinks his house is being burglarized, we could end up in a shootout."

Helga nodded. "Understood." She ran over to Arnold and gave him a quick run down while Patty contacted the Sheriff's Office and requested radio silence.

They stacked up at that patrol cars and moved quickly single file toward the house. Patty took the lead with her rifle, Helga was second with her own rifle, then Arnold and Sid with their sidearms. They flattened their formation next to the door and Patty quietly opened it. She swept into the house quickly. Helga was amazed at how a woman her size could move so gracefully and silently. The first room of the house was a dining room. To their left was a living room and beyond the dining room was a kitchen on the right, a hallway straight ahead, and a staircase to the second floor on the left. Patty swept right so Helga moved left.

The house was dark, lit only by a night light in the hallway. Helga was holding her small backup flashlight against the foregrip of her rifle, which was awkward and not terribly effective, but the rifles didn't have lights and had iron sights that were impossible to see in the dark without a light source. _We're gonna have to talk to the union about these rifles. This is bullshit._ Helga continued to the staircase and covered it while Patty entered the hallway. Arnold cleared the kitchen and Sid followed Patty. The hallway formed a T junction, with the short arm heading to the back door and the long arm heading past several rooms running the length of the house. From Helga's post at the staircase she could see through the open door to the first room. There was a bed and she could see someone's feet laying on top of the covers. She silently waved to Patty, who turned to her. Helga pointed at her eyes, held up one finger, then pointed to the open door. _I hope she understands that. We should probably train on this kind of shit more often._

Patty nodded and placed a hand on Sid's shoulder. Sid turned, and Patty pointed to the room. Sid nodded. Arnold came up behind Helga. Helga pointed to the other side of the stairs and then down the hallway. Arnold posted up on the other side of the stairs and watched the long hallway while Patty and Sid entered the bedroom. The young girl was asleep on the bed. Sid stayed in the doorway covering the hallway with Arnold while Patty gently shook the girl. The girl's eyes opened slowly, then got wide. Patty turned on her light and lit up her face and uniform and held a finger to her lips. The wide-eyed girl nodded slowly. The girl got out of bed and Patty led her to Sid. Sid took her by the hand and led her out past Arnold and Helga. Patty came back out and stood at the bottom of the stairs. She tapped Arnold on the shoulder and held up two fingers, then held up three to Helga. She then pointed at herself and Arnold and pointed up the stairs before pointing at Helga and pointing behind them, indicating she wanted Helga on rear security while they went up the staircase.

The top of the staircase was open on three sides, so Patty went up with her rifle trained to the left while Arnold covered to the right. Arnold held one had back and grabbed Helga's shoulder as she backed up the stairs so that she could keep tabs on his location. Once they were up, the hallway looped to the left back toward the bedroom. The bedroom door was facing them at the end of the hallway, but there were two other doors along the right side on the way down. Patty tried the knob on the first door, but it was locked. They slowly worked down the hallway to the second door, but it was also locked. Helga kept facing to the rear, covering the doors they couldn't secure. They approached the bedroom door, which was cracked open. Arnold pushed on Helga's shoulder, indicating that she should stop. Helga got down on a knee with her rifle at the ready, covering the two doors, while Patty and Arnold burst into the bedroom, clearing left and right then focusing on the bed.

A man was in the bed, fast asleep until the sound of the door opening roused him. His eyes fluttered open and he saw two uniformed deputies standing at the foot of his bed pointing guns at him. Two handguns were on the night stand next to him. He slowly raised his hands above his head as he finally understood what was going on.

"Um. Do you think I could put some pants on?" he asked.

Helga and Arnold stood outside listening to the man tell Patty about a past problem with ghosts in the house and how he had a medium come and expunge the spirits. He said he never actually saw or heard one, but that there were just odd happenings in the house until the medium came. He said that was several years ago, long before he met the woman that was still secured in Arnold's car, who was his current girlfriend. According to him, he had told her the story a few weeks prior and ever since she had claimed to see and hear ghosts, but he had never heard anything himself. Patty took a statement from the man while Arnold and Helga returned to their patrol unit to take the woman to the hospital for mental health evaluation. The woman knocked on the partition as Helga secured the now cleared patrol rifle.

"Do you hear them?" the woman asked.

"Nope, can't say as I do. What are they saying?"

"They're chanting."

"Okay, well what are they chanting?"

"They're saying 'fuck you bitch. Fuck you bitch.'"

Helga rolled her eyes. "Okay, well we'll be out of here soon. We have someone we want you to tell your story to at the hospital."

"Okay. I think that sounds good."

 _Damn right it does,_ Helga thought. _We could have gotten in a gunfight with your boyfriend because you're certifiable._

They brought the woman to the hospital and left her in the care of the psych unit. As they got back in the car they sat in silence for a moment, neither of them moving.

"Arnold?"

"Yes Helga?"

"Why does the weird shit always happen when I work with you, Arnold?"

"I really don't know Helga."

* * *

 **0512**

Helga started to nod off after Arnold parked the car to get a snack at the gas station. She was rudely awakened when he opened the door to get back in.

"Football Head, why can't you just let me sleep in peace," she whined. She felt something land in her lap. She opened her eyes and looked down. It was a Hershey bar. She picked it up and looked at it as though it were an alien object. "What's this for?"

"Happy Valentine's day, Pataki," he said with a smirk.

"Shortman, you're such a loser." She turned and looked out the window to hide her goofy, love-sick grin.

 **A/N: The ghost incident is exactly as it happened. I was in Helga's shoes on that one. I was fully convinced I was going to get shot that night.**

 **Guest: I haven't seen Discovery. However, since she always admired Arnold for his moral convictions, I would think that she would be a closet Picard fan. She might appreciate the stories, but I think Helga has always wished she could be more like Arnold.**

 **Guest #2: Gerald certainly can be a jerk, but aren't most guys that are popular with the ladies? Gerald really isn't that bad. He's just looking out for his friend, and unlike Arnold he almost never sees the other side of Helga. Besides, he fancies himself a lady's man but he's usually not much better with women than Arnold is.**

 **Ajay: Arnold will probably always win the "Denial Olympics." And when you spend 40 hours a week trapped in a cramped Ford, going through life or death situations with someone, you start to figure them out fairly quickly. You may not ever understand them fully, but you get the outline pretty fast. Not to mention Helga doesn't always throw up her defenses when they're alone. And yes, a nod to 'What's Opera, Arnold?' I'm surprised no one has pointed out the significance of the car numbers yet.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Rats**

 **February 25, 0023**

Arnold _had_ noticed that Helga seemed to take midnight shift overtime when it meant she was working with him. She never seemed to take it with anyone else. He couldn't figure out exactly why she did it, but he genuinely enjoyed her company. She seemed to have mellowed considerably since that first day he literally ran into her at the office.

"Sheriff's Office to Papa Sierra one zero seven."

Helga grabbed the microphone. "One zero seven."

"Respond to 17 Industrial Park Road. Commercial burglar alarm activation. No keyholders en route. Side entrance motion alarm."

"Received, en route." She hung the mic back up. "I hate that place."

"Been there before?" he asked.

"It's an abandoned warehouse. I'm not sure why they even keep an alarm system there. It hasn't been used in years. The alarm goes off all the time."

Arnold raised an eyebrow. "Motion alarms?"

"Always."

* * *

They pulled up outside the building after a short drive. It was a warehouse building roughly the size of a football field, two stories tall, with small offices on the front end. The side entrance led direction into the main warehouse. The door was open when they arrived.

"One zero seven, Sheriff's Office. We'll be out at last with an open door. Request radio silence."

"Received one zero seven." The dispatcher signaled two long tones over the radio. "Units in the field, maintain radio silence until further notice. Papa Sierra one zero seven out with an open door."

Arnold and Helga un-holstered their weapons and proceeded in. Helga took point and Arnold followed behind. The main warehouse space was almost entirely empty and they were able to clear it quickly. They moved into the office areas next. As Helga approached the first door, she could hear something rustling inside. She signaled Arnold. Arnold stood behind her as she reached for the knob. She turned it and they both went in to clear the room.

Helga immediately regretted it. Standing just inside the door was the biggest rat she had ever seen. Helga _hated_ rats. Helga screeched and immediately ran back out of the room, leaving a perplexed Arnold staring at the creature.

"Shoot it, Arnold! Shoot that fucking monster!"

"… the rat?"

"What the fuck else would I be talking about? Shoot that god damned rat!"

"Helga, it's just a rat."

"Ugh! You're impossible! I'll be in the car!" Helga stormed back through the warehouse. "If you were my friend, you'd shoot that little bastard!"

Arnold and the rat looked at each other before both turned and went their own ways.

* * *

Arnold could tell Helga was embarrassed by the whole ordeal with the rat, but he had no idea what to do about it. She was seething, clearly hiding her hurt behind a mask of anger. He knew her well enough by now to figure out when she was wearing her emotional armor. But he still hadn't figured out a way to get through it.

"I'm, uh… I'm sorry I didn't shoot the rat?" He winced. He had meant to actually make that sound like an apology, not a question. He probably just made things worse.

"Yeah, well, I guess he didn't so anything to deserve it. Other than set off the alarm." She shivered visibly. "Disgusting things."

"Why don't you like-"

"I just don't okay? I'm not going into this. You might as well just tell everyone at the office now so that we can get all the rat pranks over with. Helga the Horrible is afraid of a rodent."

"Why do you think I'd tell anyone about that?"

"Because that's what cops _do_. We're awful to each other. We prey on each other's insecurities and treat each other like shit all the fucking time. It's worse than high school. Besides, nothing will get you in with the rest of the crew like nailing Helga G. Pataki to the wall. They all wish they could take me down a peg."

Arnold shook his head. "I won't tell anyone if you won't."

She finally turned and regarded him curiously. "What's your angle, Shortman?"

"I'm your friend, Helga. I'm not going let everyone else get on you for your phobia. I'm deathly afraid of snakes, to be honest."

She huffed. "Okay, Indiana."

He smirked at her. "Does that make you Henry Jones Sr.?"

Helga smiled. "In your dreams, pal. You _wish_ you had Sean Connery for a partner." Her smile faded and she looked down at the floor. "If you didn't tell anyone, I'd really appreciate it," she said softly.

He looked over to her. He could see the sadness in her eyes. "I've got your six, Pataki." He held out a fist to her for a fist bump. "Partners."

"You're so lame, Shortman," she said. She gave him the fist bump anyway.

"Good. Now let's go find something to eat. I'm starving."

 **A/N: Cops really are terrible to one another. They also have exceptionally dark senses of humor.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Knife to a Gunfight**

 **February 25, 0222**

"Slow down, slow down! That's it right there!" Helga yelled, pointing at the house up ahead. Arnold slammed on the brakes and turned into the short driveway that led to a garage that seemed to be too narrow for two bays. One of the garage doors was open. Helga had the radio mic in her hand already. "One zero seven out at last."

"Received one zero seven."

They both got out of the car quickly. Arnold left the emergency lights on to mark the location for the second unit that was coming to assist them. 911 had assigned a state unit to the call, but even though state was closer as the crow flies, Arnold and Helga had a much more direct route and had beaten them there.

The deputies ran up to the door to the house through the open garage bay. The house door opened as they approached. A woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties with dark hair and tear stained cheeks answered the door. "He's in the other room," she said.

Arnold and Helga entered the kitchen of the house, which led into a small living room. Pacing in the middle of the room was a very large young man in his early twenties wearing a t-shirt and basketball shorts, standing at 6'5" and weighing, by Helga's guess, almost 300 pounds. He also looked like he was spoiling for a fight. _I'd rather stick my head in a cage with starved rabid rat,_ Helga thought. "What's going on, Sam?"

The man stopped pacing for a minute. "Pataki, I'm not in the mood tonight. That fucking bitch mother of mine has pissed me off for the last time. I'm _done!_ I want out of this place!" He started throwing his hands up in the air.

"Friend of yours?" Arnold asked quietly.

"I've arrested him a few times. I've never seen him like this though. He's usually pretty calm." Helga directed her attention back to Sam. "Sam, we got a report that you were cutting your wrists. That true?"

Sam held up his wrists to Helga so quickly she couldn't get a good look at them, though there were no obvious signs of injuries. He resumed his pacing. "My wrists are fine, Pataki. That bitch makin' up stories again. It's that fuckin' brain tumor. She's gonna fuckin' leave me just like dad did, that asshole."

 _Oh boy. This is a full-fledged breakdown._ "Were you cutting again Sam?"

"So, what if I was. Shit. That's none of your business. Get the fuck outta my house."

"Listen, we got called here because you were cutting your wrists. Can we at least take a look?"

Sam stopped pacing and held out his wrists for her inspection. She could see that there were a number of superficial cuts and scrapes. To Helga it looked like a clear case of cutting with a razor blade. "Where's the razor, Sam?"

He shrugged. "In the kitchen." Sam started to walk toward the kitchen. Helga and Arnold hurried ahead of him.

"Easy Sam, just slow down."

"You know what, fuck you Pataki. I'm done with this shit. Why don't you fuckers just shoot me now. Huh? Go the fuck ahead, fuckin' shoot me!" He was yelling now. Mom was still in the kitchen crying and the razor blade was laying on a paper towel on the counter. The towel had blood spots on it. The door to the garage opened and two state officers walked in.

"Nobody wants to shoot you, Sam. We want to get you some help. How about we go to the hospital and you can talk to someone? Things are rough for you right now. Let's get you some help."

"Fuck you. Like you know what my life is like. Dad walked out on us right before Christmas. He doesn't even live in this _state_ any more. Mom is dying of a brain tumor. And I have stage four Lymphoma. So what _fuck_ is talking to someone going to do for me? You're all the fucking same. You just want to dump me on someone else to be _their_ problem. Just like that bitch over there."

Mom had finally had enough. "Fuck you, Sam! I didn't ask for any of this!"

Helga sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. She turned to the state officer. "Bill, you think you guys could interview her outside maybe? She's not helping here."

The state officer nodded to Helga, then to his partner. The other state officer led the mother out of the house and into the garage. Helga turned back to Sam. "Listen Sam, this isn't a big deal. You go talk to someone tonight on your own, they'll probably let you out later today."

Sam was standing up straight again. His was pumping his hands into fists and releasing them and he pushed out his chest. _That's a fighting stance_ , Helga thought.

"I ain't going to no hospital. You're gonna have to kill me."

"No one wants to hurt you. We just want you to get better."

Sam suddenly smashed a fist on the counter. "Nothing is gonna make this better! Fuck you!" Sam pulled open a drawer and pulled out a butcher knife. Arnold and the state officer pulled their handguns and Helga removed her taser. She flipped off the safety, which activated the laser sight. The red dot danced on Sam's chest as he stood there, less than ten feet away, holding the knife. The tension in the room had skyrocketed in a heartbeat and now they were one mistake or bad move away from shooting someone.

Everyone was yelling but Helga felt surprisingly serene.

"Fucking shoot me, you pigs! Mom! Mom, they're gonna fuckin' kill me and it's your fault! You fucking bitch!"

"Drop the knife! Drop the knife now!"

"No one wants to hurt you, just put it down!"

Helga stood silently, looking straight at Sam. He made eye contact with her and his face changed from fury to understanding. _He knows I'll zap him in a heartbeat. And he's always been afraid of the taser._ Sam slowly put the knife back in the drawer and closed it. Arnold and the state officer holstered their pistols but Helga kept the taser trained on him.

"Fuck you Pataki. Put that fuckin' taser away. Mom! They're going to taze me! I have a heart condition, bitch. You'll fuckin' kill me with that thing."

Helga switched the safety back on and slowly holstered the weapon. She put her hands down by her side after she did so, but Sam wasn't satisfied.

"You just went for your gun! I saw it! This bitch wants to fuckin' kill me!"

Helga was getting angry. And she knew that wasn't going to help. She turned to the state officer.

"Bill, in the interest of not shooting this guy, I'll go stay with mom and send your partner in. I'm just going to make this whole thing worse."

Bill nodded. "You got it, Pataki. Thanks." The state officer turned back to Sam. "She's going outside with your mom. How about you talk to me now, Sam?"

Helga went back into the frigid garage and sent the other state officer back into the house. The mother looked at Helga with sad eyes.

"He's actually a good boy."

Helga snorted. "Yeah, I can see that."

"If I could get his aunt on the phone, she can calm him down. But she won't answer."

"Well, keep trying sister, because if he doesn't go on his own, we're going to have to force him to go. And that's not going to be pretty for anyone."

Helga noticed the two EMTs in the garage for the first time. She cocked an eyebrow to them. "Not staging down the road?"

The medic shook his head. "We came straight in because we thought we had someone with slit wrists. Kinda wish we _were_ down the road, though."

Helga listened to the arguing in the other room. The cold was starting to bite, even through the wool underwear she had on. _Criminy, it's gotta be ten below out here. And Football Head has the keys so I can't even get my jacket._ She rubbed her hands together. _I hope they get that moron out of here soon._

* * *

 **0355**

It took another 45 minutes to get the man talked into the ambulance, and Helga's fingers and toes were not happy about the delay. But at least they didn't have to wrestle with an enormous man with nothing left to lose, at least in his own mind.

"I think we need to get something hot to drink, Hair Boy."

"You got it, Blue."

Arnold sat up straight like he'd been caught doing something wrong, and she looked at him curiously. "Blue? What the hell does that mean? My fingers aren't _that_ cold."

"Uh, well… it's, ah, nothing." He looked uncomfortable. _Oh, you're not getting off that easily._

"It's not nothing. You look like you just got caught stealing from the cookie jar. Now what the crap does calling me 'blue' mean?"

Arnold sighed. His cheeks burned. _Thank God she can't see me blush in the dark,_ he thought _._ "Um, well, I was uh, thinking of your eyes, and they're blue, and it just kinda… slipped in there?" He scratched the back of his neck.

Helga looked at him, her mouth agape for a moment before she caught herself. She quickly looked away, her face also feeling warm. _He was thinking of my_ eyes? She swooned inwardly. _No time for that, Helga. You can't sit here and let_ that _hang in the air._ "Well, I guess I'm glad you're keeping your eyes above my shoulders, Football Head."

"Aheh. Yeah. Um, sorry."

 _Play it cool,_ she thought. "You wanna call me that, fine." She pointed a finger at him. "But not in front of anyone else, you got it?"

Arnold smiled sheepishly. "Whatever you say Helga."

They were traveling on a parkway, and up ahead they could see tail lights in one of the overlooks. The overlooks tended to attract drug users at night, so Arnold decided to check it. It would at least provide a distraction to his stupid slip up which now was apparently going to be a private nickname. _I can't tell Gerald about this one. He'll never let me forget it._

"You walk up, Head Boy. I'll run the plate," Helga said.

Arnold got out and walked up to the car. He saw a pair of sweatpants and a pair of lacy women's underwear sitting next to the car. As he approached he could tell that the driver was upset.

"Good evening ma'am. May I see your license and registration please?"

The girl was young and attractive, but she appeared to have been crying. "It's a rental and I don't know where the registration is." She fished out her license and handed it to him.

"Okay, don't worry about it then. Where are you coming from tonight?"

"Upstate. I'm headed back to Hillwood from a ski trip."

"And why did you stop here tonight?"

"I, uh, got real sick to my stomach and threw up." She was on the verge of tears again. Helga walked up and Arnold handed her the license. Arnold noticed she was wearing ski pants.

"You haven't been drinking at all tonight, have you?" he asked.

"No sir, I promise. I just got sick to my stomach." She still wouldn't make eye contact. Arnold could tell she was lying about something but he wasn't sure what. Helga had turned around to go back to the car and run the license on the computer.

"Alright, stay in the vehicle. We'll be with you in a moment."

"What'd she say?" Helga asked as Arnold got back in the car.

"She says she's on her way back from a ski trip and she got sick and pulled over to throw up. I'm not sure what the deal is with the clothes on the ground though."

Helga worked to suppress a smile. "Arnoldo, did you actually _look_ at those clothes or what's behind them?"

"I guess not that closely, why?"

"Arnold, that's not vomit on the ground. That's crap. And it's in the sweat pants _and_ the underwear." She looked at Arnold. "She shit herself, bud."

Arnold sat there in momentary shock. _Well I guess that's why she was lying._

Helga finished tapping at the keyboard. "And her license is suspended."

"I guess I'd better have a conversation with her about that." He took the license from Helga and walked back to the car. The girl was even more upset than before. "Ma'am, are you aware that your license is suspended."

She nodded, fighting back tears. "I just got arrested by the state police about an hour ago for it. I just want to get home." She picked up a paper ticket from the seat next to her and handed it to him. He unfolded it. The time stamp said 0314, which was only about 45 minutes earlier.

Arnold handed her back the license. "You have a safe drive."

The girl nodded, tears streaming down her face.

Arnold got back into the car. "Not going to arrest her?" Helga asked.

He shook his head. "Nah, state got her less than hour ago for it. She's having a shitty enough night."

Helga roared in laughter and he looked at her, stunned. "Shitty night? Football Head, even _I_ think that's mean."

Arnold groaned. "I didn't even think of that before I said it." He pulled back onto the road. "Why does the weird stuff always happen when we ride together?"

"I have no idea, Arnoldo. But I'm glad it does."

 **Note: Both real incidents. The incident with the knife was the first time someone actually placed me directly into a potential lethal force encounter (the whole ghost thing was not quite the same). I basically would have been in Helga's shoes in the kitchen, but Arnold's leading up to it (my partner was the one that had dealt with the subject before).**

 **Two chapters in one day. Just 'cause.**


	24. Chapter 24

**City Crime**

 **March 18, 1450**

Shift briefings, when they happened at all, were normally nonsense. Some training thing that had to get dragged up because someone botched a report or ruined an otherwise good arrest with a procedural error were the norm. Most sergeants didn't even bother to do them in person and either sent an email or posted notices on a clipboard. Typical bureaucratic make-work.

Today was not one of those briefings. They had even called in the K9 Deputy Nadine and the Community Policing Deputies that normally handled town board meetings and local festivals. Most of the CP Deputies avoided the office like the plague, in particular Rhonda Lloyd. Helga was sure she only passed the academy with political help. Now she spent her shifts rubbing elbows with the political elite of the county. The road room was packed. Arnold pushed his way over to Helga.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Helga shrugged and looked bored. "Who knows. Probably going to give us all a hard time for someone forgetting to sign a report." She idly picked at her fingernails and feigned indifference, but she knew this was going to be more than that.

"Alright, settle down people. I have some things to go over." It was Lieutenant Simmons. "This will be short, but we have to go over some special information." The room quieted down. "As I'm sure some of you know, there has been a string of shots fired calls in the city the past few weeks. Last week, the leader of 15th Street Gang was ambushed by an unknown assailant while he was driving down an alley to his residence. Hillwood PD has a suspect in mind for the shooting, but they're still light on evidence. The gang leader wasn't hit in the shooting, but his girlfriend was struck in the shoulder and his two-year-old was in the back seat."

Helga groaned. "Great. Street justice is coming."

Simmons continued. "HPD's confidential informants have provided intelligence that the 15th Street Gang is planning a retaliation attack on the Culver Road Boys, a rival gang that competes for drug territory. The two groups operate on opposite sides of the street on the twelve hundred block of 15th Street. Intel says a shooting is planned for this weekend but is believed to be scheduled for tonight between 2000 and 2300 hours on that block."

"That's some pretty specific information," Arnold said.

"I guess HPD's detectives feel pretty confident in their CIs."

"All zone cars in the posts adjacent to the city are expected to stay in the vicinity of the city line when not on calls. Traffic stops only if the operator endangers the public. K9s, traffic cars, and Community Patrols, you're reassigned to stay close to the city."

There was an audible "Ugh!" from the back of the room and general grumbling began. Helga rolled her eyes. "There goes the princess. Can't be taken away from schmoozing with the politicians."

"Which one is that?" Arnold asked. He almost never saw the CP units.

"Rhonda Wellington Lloyd. Comes from a rich family. No one is really sure why she's even here. My guess is daddy is trying to position her to become Sheriff one day."

Simmons waved to the room. "People, quiet down. HPD is expecting someone to get shot tonight, so I want you all to have your plate carriers and helmets where you can get them quickly. Every car should have a long gun. These people may not hesitate to shoot at police. Double check your bail out bags for medical equipment and ammo. If anything is missing, see me immediately. Dismissed, and be safe."

The deputies started filtering out of the room. Helga looked at Arnold. "What zone do you have tonight?"

"South central. Right outside the city."

"Dinner at the Roadhouse Diner? 7:30?"

"Sure thing. Blue." He smirked deviously.

Her face went white. She stuck a finger in his face. "I said _not_ in front of other people, Football Head." She turned and started out of the room. "I've gotta get my car. I'll see you at 7:30." She stopped and turned back to Arnold. His smile faded. She had a serious, concerned look on her face that he wasn't used to. "And… be safe, okay?"

Arnold nodded. "You too."

Helga returned his nod and left. Arnold suddenly felt cold.

* * *

 **2007**

"All I'm saying is that you should have warned me that the entire _series_ was like, fourteen episodes. With no real ending. It's kind of a kick in the teeth," Arnold said as they exited the diner.

Helga shook her head. "No, you need to understand the deep disappointment of the Firefly fan for losing that show before its time. My question is did you _like_ it?"

Arnold opened his mouth to answer when their portable radios scratched to life. "Sheriff's office to units in the field. HPD reporting shots fired, twelve hundred block of 15th Street. Officer on scene reports at least one victim. Multiple suspects seen running through gangway to the ally on the odd side of the street. Responding units advise en route and on scene, then switch to HPD frequency for tactical communications."

Without another word Arnold and Helga ran to their patrol cars. They sped out of the parking lot, lights flashing and sirens wailing, for the five-minute drive to the scene. As they pulled up they saw a black female HPD officer directing Nadine, who had arrived just before them, to post up at the intersection while Rhonda was told to escort the ambulance to the hospital. An ambulance was already on scene and a female victim with bandages on her leg was being loaded into the back on a stretcher. Arnold was ahead of Helga and rolled down his window.

"Where do you want us?"

The officer pointed down the street. "Next intersection with Proctor Ave. Both of you. Block the road. No vehicle or pedestrian traffic comes in. We need to seal this scene."

Arnold waved to Helga behind him and they raced down the block. Arnold pulled his car across the on-coming lane and switched to the HPD frequency. "Papa Sierra one zero seven to Hillwood, myself and three two six have perimeter at 15th and Proctor."

"Received one zero seven. Be advised, Officer Wilson is scene commander until further notice."

"Understood." Arnold hit the release for his patrol rifle and pulled it out of the rack, then popped the rear hatch on his Explorer. He ran around behind the car and pulled out the helmet and the heavy plate carrier, which could stop rifle bullets instead of the handgun rounds his soft vest was rated to. He donned both and grabbed the bailout bag that contained extra ammunition for his rifle and medical supplies. Helga was doing the same at her own car.

She walked over to him. "I guess HPD was pretty much on the nose with their intel on this one."

"Seems like it." A crowd was already starting to form at the intersection.

The radio squawked again. "Hillwood rescue, hold up, hold up! Additional patient at the scene! Someone stop that fucking ambulance!" Arnold turned and saw that the ambulance was well on its way down the road. He could see Rhonda flashing her spotlight at them to get their attention but they continued on their way.

"Mercyside One, three year old male patient, gunshot wound to the leg. Get down here and run him to the hospital ASAP!"

Arnold watched the Mercyside patrol unit leave the perimeter at the far end of the block and speed to a house halfway down the street before screeching to a halt. An HPD officer ran out of the apartment building carrying a screaming child. The officer jumped in the back of the patrol car and it immediately sped off after the ambulance.

"Fucking savages," Helga muttered. Arnold typically hated that kind of mentality, but he had a hard time arguing this time. The street behind them was starting to flood with people from houses on both sides of the street. They were yelling at each other, battle lines being drawn. Tensions were high and there weren't enough officers on the scene yet to lock everything down. When the pushing started, someone started calling on the radio.

"I need some help up here. There's a fight starting in the street."

"Get up there, hair boy. Secure your rifle in the trunk and go help break that up."

Arnold looked back at the crowd gathering at the intersection. There were at least twenty people there now. It seemed like every single one had their phones out and were recording. "Are you sure?" he asked. "That's a big crowd for one person."

She gave him a confident grin. "I'm Helga G. Pataki. I can handle these assholes. Go break up that fight before they get too close to the crime scene and contaminate the shit out of it."

Arnold looked unsure but nodded. He activated his radio as he popped the hatch on his car. "One zero seven, I'm on my way."

Helga turned back to the crowd. They were starting to get closer to the patrol cars and were only about ten yards away.

"Look at that skinny bitch," someone yelled. "We could take that skinny bitch."

Helga raised an eyebrow and made eye contact with the instigator. He wasn't all that big himself. She grabbed the charging handle of her rifle and racked a round into the chamber. The sound seemed to stop the crowd in their tracks. Helga scowled at the man. Maybe it was the rifle, and maybe it was just her determined and menacing look, but the crowd backed up a few feet. _I'm going home tonight, bucko,_ she thought.

"Three two six to HPD. Be advised, crowd forming at 15th and Proctor. Request an additional unit when available."

"Received three two six. State units en route to yours. ETA zero three."

"Three two six copies." She resumed scanning the crowd. She watched people's hands, looked for anyone that seemed to be sweating too much or looking around nervously. Anyone that might be a threat. Most everyone seemed more interested in streaming the flashing lights to Facebook live. Only a few people stared back.

Helga heard the sirens of additional units echoing through the streets. Three state police units approached and pulled up by Helga's car. The state officers jumped out, already wearing their heavy body armor, and joined her at the roadblock. Helga looked at her watch. "You're a little late tonight, Bill."

"We're state employees, Pataki. You're lucky we showed up at all."

Helga smiled. Bill was one of the good ones. A lot of state cops had serious attitude problems, which stemmed from their academy. It was considerably different from the local academies that trained the municipal and county cops around the state. State went out of their way to teach recruits that they were better than everyone else. "We have to stop meeting on calls like this, Bill. I'm starting to think you're bad luck."

Bill snorted as he slung a shotgun around his neck. "Helga, I'm pretty sure _you're_ the shit magnet in this relationship. Either you, or your partner."

Helga shrugged. "What can I say? I trained him well." She stole a look over her shoulder and watched as Arnold and several Hillwood officers broke up the shoving match.

Bill chuckled. "Whatever you say Pataki. Who's in charge of this disaster?"

"HPD Officer Wilson. She's up the street."

"Alright, I'm gonna go find out where she wants us." Bill walked by Helga and slapped her on the shoulder.

"I'm gonna let that slide Bill. Next time, you _ask_ before you touch me." She gave him a sarcastic smile.

Bill shook his head. "Be safe, Pataki."

"With all you big strong staties here, I've never been safer." She placed the back of her hand on her forehead as though she felt faint and affected her worst Southern belle accent. "You heroes make my girlhood tremble-"

Bill laughed. "Okay Pataki, don't make it weird." With that he walked off in search of a post assignment.

Helga smiled and turned back to the other state officers. They were all giving her strange looks. She grimaced. "What're _you_ lookin' at?" They all turned back to the crowd. Helga walked back to the front of Arnold's car. She leaned against the grill and crossed her arms on the stock of her rifle, which was slung in front of her. _Who says I'm going soft?_ she thought, as she pulled a bag of gummy bears out of her plate carrier pocket.

 **Note: Real shots fired call. The dialogue is made up, but the events are real, including the injured child being transported by a patrol car. I did not have any gummy bears though. Our agency also does not provide us with rifle plate carriers or helmets. I bought my own. And the guy in the crowd actually said "Look at that little guy. We could take that little guy." I'm not big, but this guy was smaller than me, and I'm 5'7" and 180 pounds (1708 cm and81.6 kg). I actually held that street corner solo for about 10 minutes.**

 **For those unfamiliar, there are multiple 'levels' of body armor. Level I and Level IIA are no longer used because their protection level is so low. Most officers in the US wear either level II or level IIIA. These are soft vests that can be worn under or over the uniform shirt. II will stop handgun rounds up to 9mm, IIIA will stop handgun rounds up to .40 caliber(that covers all of the common handgun calibers). Helga's hard plate that she wears in her vest adds enough protection to stop high velocity handgun rounds like .44 magnum and 5.7mm, but it still won't stop a rifle bullet. Rifles will zip through a soft vest like it's not even there. Also, a soft vest is not stab or 'spike' rated. Knives, ice picks, and screw drivers can penetrate a soft vest.**

 **For that you need a level III or level IV plate, which is what is contained in a plate carrier. The plates are typically made of either steel or ceramic. Level III will protect against rifle rounds from M16s and AK47s. A typical deer hunting rifle generally is more powerful than either. Level IV is the highest level at the moment and will stop armor piercing .30 caliber magnum bullets. Level III steel plates weigh about 10 pounds each (4.5 kg), ceramic level IV weighs about 8 pounds each (3.6 kg). The big issue, especially for an officer purchasing on their own, is cost. A pair of level III steel plates will cost around $80-100. A pair of level IV ceramic plates will run around $1600. I have two lightweight Dyneema plates that are rated to level III but weigh about 2.5 pounds each (1.1 kg). The pair costs around $900. The helmets are rated to Level IIIA.**

 **Plate carriers are generally only worn on shots fired calls because of their weight and militant appearance. Because of their size they are worn over top of the uniform only. Some SWAT teams wear them as the primary means of protection with no soft vest. Others wear heavy level IIIA soft vests that cover their shoulders and sides and add plates to the front and back. This provides better protection, but such a set up can weigh as much as 40 pounds (18 kg).**

 **Guest: You're a few chapters back, but trust me, there's nothing sexy about being sweaty when wearing body armor. The vest doesn't breath at all, so the sweat just gets trapped in your undershirt. It's disgusting.**

 **Ajay: Denial is certainly Arnold's forte. How long it will take him to realize that their relationship transcends partners remains to be seen.**

 **Nep2uune: Cops, being primarily alpha personalities, are always trying to dominate one another. Picking on each other relentlessly is part of that. They especially like to pick on new guys to test them. If you can't keep yourself under control when your co-workers are giving you a hard time, you're going to lose it on the street when some scum bag starts talking about screwing your wife or something like that (I've heard that one before but joke's on you, buddy; I don't even have a girlfriend). I think it also depends on the culture of the particular department. City PDs that have lots of officers and relatively small patrol areas tend to have more camaraderie than a county agency that covers hundreds of square miles. Even when we have a well-staffed shift, Deputies are in a car by themselves and rarely back one another up. The lack of shared experience makes it hard to depend on each other. Throw in an administration that actively tries to get guys to compete with one another for special details and you have a recipe for paranoia, competition, and backstabbing. The local departments in the towns and villages usually only have one officer on at a time, which leads them to be somewhat aloof of working with anyone. They're used to having to do everything alone and often without even a supervisor to talk to you. Policing in the US is much more complicated and varied than anyone gives it credit for, but we're treated like all cops and all departments are the same.**


	25. Chapter 25

**Got it Bad**

 **March 20, 1849**

Gerald brought the drinks back to the table. "That call was a cluster. I got stuck digging through garbage in the gangway with HPD looking for shell casings."

"What happened, exactly?" Phoebe asked. Since the call was in the city of Hillwood and HPD had their own crime scene techs, she didn't respond to the scene.

Arnold sighed. "The target usually hangs out on the stoop in front of that house on the odd side of the street. Someone, or more likely several someones, came down the gangway between the houses from the alley in back. He stuck the gun around the corner and fired without looking. If he had looked he might have seen that his target wasn't even there. Instead he shot a mother who grabbed her three-year old to run back into the house after the first round was fired. The bullet went through her leg and hit the child, but they didn't realize that they kid was hit until a few minutes later because they thought the blood was mom's."

Phoebe covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh no! Is the kid okay?"

"He will be, I guess," Gerald said. "They found a second kid, a five-year old, that had been hit in the leg too. But that was a few hours later, when HPD executed a search warrant and went into the house."

"And nobody saw anything?" Phoebe asked.

"Officer Wilson was in front of the house when it happened," Arnold replied. "She saw the muzzle flashes and ran into the gangway, but she saw four people running away. And chasing four possibly armed suspects into a dark alley with no backup is a good way to end up shot. How long were you on scene?" Arnold asked Gerald.

"About two hours. You?"

"Helga and I were stuck there for five. HPD had to call in a bunch of off-duty guys to relieve us. State pulled most of their guys out once the crowds dispersed. Speaking of, where _is_ Helga?"

"She's out with Samantha tonight," Phoebe answered.

Arnold felt a little twinge of, what was it? Jealousy? _Am I jealous of a 12-year-old for spending time with Helga G. Pataki?_ Arnold shook his head. _Helga's my friend. Besides, she said she doesn't date. Why did I just go_ there _with this train of thought? What is going on right now? Uh oh, they're staring at me._ Arnold realized Gerald and Phoebe were looking at him oddly. "Uh, what?"

"Phoebe wanted to know why you asked, but you just sat there staring into space." Gerald frowned. "Is this a Ruth- "

"Ah-aha, no. No, it's not," Arnold interrupted. He scratched the back of his neck and blushed.

Phoebe looked confused. "Who's Ruth?"

"She's this girl that Arnold had a crush on in the fourth grade. He's showing some symptoms."

Phoebe smiled broadly. "Well, I could always talk to Helga for you."

"Uh, no, no. That's quite alright. She's just a friend, is all. We're just… you know, friends. Good… good friends." _It's really hot in here,_ he thought.

Gerald rolled his eyes. "Yeah, you said that already."

* * *

"Man, what the hell is going on with you?" Gerald asked after Phoebe left for the night.

"What do you mean?" Arnold was hoping he meant something else.

"Don't play dumb with me. Are you into Pataki or what?"

"No. I mean, I don't think so. I guess I don't know."

"Man, you're outta your mind. That chick is _crazy_."

Arnold sighed. "Yeah, she is. But not quite the way everyone thinks."

Gerald glared at him. "Well you need to convince me, because she's a royal pain in everyone's ass around the office and one of the rudest people most of us have ever met. Are you saying she doesn't treat _you_ the same way she treats the rest of us? Because I've seen her be pretty harsh on you."

Arnold couldn't deny it was true. When they were alone in the car it was one thing. But whenever anyone else could see them, Helga was short with him, berated him, treated him generally like crap. Arnold had a really hard time reconciling the Helga he got to see in her softer moments to the aggressive, cold freak show that she showed to world.

"She's… complicated. She acts differently when no one is around. But when the people around the office can see her, she throws up this crazy, angry persona. I don't know why she does it."

"Listen man, there's no denying she's a good cop. She's got numbers that put most guys to shame. But I'll be damned if I'm gonna let my best friend get involved with a woman that does nothing but shit on him."

Arnold bristled at that one. _He has no idea what she's like. And his girlfriend is Helga's_ best _friend._ He shot an angry look at Gerald. "In case you forgot, Phoebe is pretty close to Helga. She clearly sees something there too. I'm not sure how I feel about Helga, to be honest, but I _do_ know you're not giving her the credit she deserves. And no one else in that department does either." Arnold stood up and grabbed his jacket.

"Where are you going?" Gerald asked.

"For a walk. I'm done with this conversation." Arnold stormed out of the bar and into the night.

"Man, that boy's got it bad," Gerald muttered to himself.

 **A/N: Guest: There were a string of shootings that took place, with multiple victims and ultimately one fatality. Eventually most of the suspects got picked up on warrants, but it took months. Helga is indeed bold, but standing on that corner by herself isn't boldness, it's duty. She was assigned to stand a post and she did it. Simple as that.**

 **Nep2uune: If you had met me six years ago, you'd say the same about me. Actually, you'd probably still say it if you met me today. Most people don't believe it when I tell them what I do for a living. People can surprise you with their career choices. Rhonda fancies herself a leader, so she may have the personality traits needed to be successful. And don't forget, Rhonda did play tackle football with the boys in the show and if I recall she made a few touchdowns. And she wouldn't have much authority as Captain if she hadn't worked her way up through the ranks first.**

 **Ajay: That was my second shots fired call. It was definitely one of the worst I've responded to so far, and I've been to six or seven (they're not actually that common here; all but one were related to the same gang dispute, which was a drug turf thing). Rhonda and Nadine won't have huge roles in this story, but I'm working on part two and they will have much bigger parts, particularly Rhonda.**

 **Kryten: Honestly, Farscape frightens me for that reason so I avoid it. I've been under pressure from many people to watch it. I may get to it soon.**

 **Nettie: Ask and he shall receive. The story is completely written. My posting schedule is entirely dependant upon my editor. She does it out of the kindness of her heart so I don't pester her TOO much. This one hasn't been reviewed. The next few will have to wait until she gets to them.**


	26. Chapter 26

**Mistakes Were Made**

 **March 23, 2231**

Helga unlocked the door to the North zone substation and deactivated the alarm system. She wasn't sure why the A line guys were using up so many days off the past few months, but if it gave her more chances to work with Arnold, she was willing to sacrifice some sleep for it. She reached for light switch, her gun belt sliding off her shoulder down to her elbow, when the radio roared.

"Shots fired, shots fired!"

Helga froze. That was the C line sergeant.

"Sheriff's office received, shots fired. All units be advised, shots fired at 10432 State Route 271. Main dispatch channel reserved for shots fired traffic. All other units switch to Tac 1."

 _Ah shit,_ she thought. _Sam's house again._ She walked into the dark, picked up the phone, and called dispatch.

"Sheriff's Office, Horowtiz speaking, how may I help you?"

"Eugene, it's Helga. Was that shots fired at Sam Pleasanton's house?"

"Yeah, Sarge called shots fired but we don't really have any other info."

"Alright, I'm getting my shit on. I'll grab whatever car is here and call in service on my way."

"You got it."

Helga hung up and hurriedly put on her gun belt. She grabbed her bail out bag, a set of keys, and ran out the door without resetting the alarm. She ran out the door and started down to where the vehicle was parked behind the station building. Arnold had just pulled in and had gotten out of his car. He was in the process of taking his equipment out of the back seat. He looked at her in confusion.

"You got your gun, Football Head?"

"Uh, yeah?" he answered, as if that were a stupid question.

"Well get your belt on. Shots fired up the road. Someone shot at Sarge."

Arnold's eyes went wide, and he began putting his gear on while Helga started the car and pulled over to him. He jumped in and they pulled out in a rush. Helga lit up the light bar while Arnold got on the radio.

"Papa Sierra one three three, Sheriff's Office. In service, Shortman, Pataki, en route to shots fired call." He hung the mic up. "How far is it?"

She cast a sidelong glance at Arnold. "It's Sam's house."

Arnold groaned. "Aw great. He shot at Sarge?"

"No clue, Hair Boy. We'll get filled in when we get there. I hope."

They quickly arrived on scene, where a local PD patrol out of jurisdiction was manning a roadblock. He waved them through and they found Sid and Sergeant Wittenburg behind their patrol cars. They already had their rifles deployed. Several state units were already on scene. Wittenburg waved them over.

"You alright Sarge?" Arnold asked.

"I'm fine, Arnie. Bastard missed the whole truck with a shotgun." Wittenburg was clearly furious.

"Was it Sam again?"

"He came out the front door when I pulled up. Discharge a round. I wasn't out of the car yet but I didn't have a shot, so I got out of there. This is technically state's call, but their sergeant is on the North side of the scene. They're putting up a perimeter and calling in the helicopter. We're in reserve to rotate in so their guys don't get too cold out there. It's supposed to drop below freezing tonight. Do you have long guns?"

Helga shook her head. "Negative Sarge. We heard the call and came straight here."

"I'm glad you did, but it's secure right now. Head back to the substation, grab whatever long guns are left, and come back. We'll relieve the perimeter team in about a half hour."

Helga and Arnold drove back to the station and retrieved the last patrol rifle and a beat-up shotgun that looked like a hunting weapon and not police firearm. Helga gave Arnold the rifle and took the shotgun for herself. By the time they returned to the scene, another half dozen state units had arrived, including an off-duty SWAT sergeant that responded directly from his home. Wittenburg had them hold in their cars until they were summoned by the state police scene commander. It was almost an hour and a half after the initial call before they were directed to the line.

Wittenburg directed them to walk on the West side of the road as they walked North toward the house. No one had told them exactly where the perimeter was, so they intended to meet with the state Lieutenant that was now commanding the scene until the state SWAT team arrived. As they crested a small rise in the road, they could see the house that both Helga and Arnold were already acquainted with. There was another house just to the south with an exterior light illuminating the driveway. As they were passing the other house, someone yelled at them.

"Get the fuck outta the road!"

Helga and Arnold ran toward the voice while Sid and Wittenburg fell back a short distance to cover behind a tree. There was a fence in front of the target house along the road where two state officers were covering. They directed the two new-comers back toward a group of patrol cars that were a little further North at the other end of the fence. They walked to where a group of state officers were congregating at that location.

"What the hell were you doing out in the open like that?" a state lieutenant asked.

Helga shrugged. "They told us to come meet with you. Had to get here somehow."

The Lieutenant grimaced. "Alright, well, you're going to relieve a three-man unit on the corner of the building and cover two sides. You're going to go around the fence here, through the front yard, and post up in the tree line on the other side."

Arnold and Helga looked at each other before turning back to the lieutenant. "No," Helga said flatly.

"No?" The lieutenant didn't sound angry, just surprised that someone was questioning his order.

"We're not walking in front of his house like that. If he's in there he'll shoot us. And I'm not doing it."

"It's the next house down. The one with the light in the driveway."

Helga's jaw opened, incredulous. "Eltee, _this_ is his house," she said gesturing to the house behind the fence. "Not the next one down. Is your perimeter on the second house?"

"Of course, it is. Our guys said it was the one with the light."

"Eltee, we were here a month ago when he pulled a knife on us. This is his house. Sergeant Wittenburg said that a female subject exited the garage on the side of the building and waved him to leave right before the shot was fired. That house down there with the light doesn't have a garage at all." She crossed her arms. She was getting angry. "You have your perimeter on the wrong fucking house. Half your guys have their backs to the shooter's house right fucking now."

"Are you sure?"

Helga threw her arms up in frustration. "Call Wittenburg if you don't believe me. Criminy, you're gonna get someone killed!"

Arnold cleared his throat. "She's right, sir. We were in this house with him, not the other one."

The lieutenant frowned and pulled out his cell phone. He called Wittenburg, who confirmed everything Helga had told him. "Fuck," he muttered as he hung up the phone.

A state officer standing next to Helga turned to her. "I was just knocking on the doors and windows of that house to make sure it was empty. That guy could have jacked me in the face and I wouldn't have seen it coming."

"Yeah, well maybe next time someone can actually call the guy who got fucking shot at before jumping in with both feet. That asshole probably isn't even in the house." Helga looked up as the state helicopter flew over again. Their perimeter was too tight and not covering the woods behind the building. "This is god damned shit show, Arnoldo."

Arnold nodded, before gasping softly. "Where's his girlfriend?"

Helga turned to him. "Huh?"

"Wittenburg said she called it in, and that he saw her waving at him from the garage when he got here, but she hasn't been accounted for. Where did she go? Does he have a hostage?"

Helga groaned. "Probably. Not for us to solve. It's their problem now." Helga pointed down the road toward the Bearcat armored car that was loaded with state SWAT members.

The truck stopped near the K9 patrol car that Helga and Arnold were observing the house from. The SWAT commander dismounted and looked angry enough that even Helga was willing to give him a wide berth.

"What the ever-loving _fuck_ is happening here?" he said to the lieutenant.

"We got bad intel. Perimeter is on the wrong house. This house here is the suspect's residence, not the one with the light."

"Well good fucking work. You guys have all these cars here with headlights and flashers on backlighting every guy on your perimeter team, your perimeter is in the wrong place with it's back to the suspect, and you were off target for so long this shit head is probably roaming the woods right now. And the helicopter is bingo fuel, so they can't go looking for him. Who is running this fucking circus?" The lieutenant looked angry but said nothing. The SWAT commander continued. "My team will relieve your patrols on perimeter. Once the new line is set, get your K9s with rifle escorts out into those woods and track this fucker." He turned to Helga and Arnold. "How many guys you got?"

"Four total in three units. All our cars on the south roadblock."

"Well get back to your cars and go to the command post at the fire house up the road. The Major will give you assignments, but you guys know this area better than anyone else. I want the Sheriff's units patrolling the road network to the east of the house. I checked the map and it's going to be too big for you guys to handle with three cars, but you're all we've got. Get behind the truck and they'll walk you over."

Helga waved her hand at him. "Don't bother. We'll walk it. You need it more here in case it goes sideways."

The commander raised an eyebrow. "You sure, kid?"

Helga frowned at him. "Positive. And it's Deputy to you, bucko."

The commander looked at Arnold. "Your partner's a bitch." Before Helga could angrily interject, he added "I like her. Alright, get to your patrols and get your assignments. Don't get shot."

They both began their hike back to their cars. They passed a SWAT operator in camouflage and wearing night vision goggles setting up a sniper position in the wood line and then they were out in the open. They jogged slowly back to their patrol cars, where Sid and Wittenburg were already waiting.

"This is a fucking shit show, Sarge."

"No argumentation from me, Pataki. We're due at the CP for assignment. Mount up."

The four deputies returned to the command post and were assigned to roving patrol as the SWAT commander had directed. They remained on the patrol for two more hours before 911 contacted the scene command to advise that a residence approximately a half mile north of the original incident location reported a subject breaking into her car in the driveway. State K9s found Sam in the front seat along with his girlfriend and dragged him out, finally ending the ordeal. Thankfully, with no injuries.

 **Note: Real call. Helga's interaction with the SWAT commander is not real, but the remainder is, including most dialogue. We were more polite with the Lieutenant than Helga. It was actually twelve degrees below zero that night (-24 C). Thank God for wool underwear. Also, I don't think I've explained this before. A department that works 8-hour shifts is divided into 3 "lines": A, B, and C. A usually runs either 2300-0700 or 0000-0800, making it the first official shift of the day. Some departments will also have a D line which is a swing shift that usually runs 1900-0300. That provides overlap with what is typically the busiest part of the night. We generally don't run that shift unless it's something like a DWI patrol on a Friday or Saturday. Some departments run 10 or 12-hour shifts which are divided up differently.**

 **Nettie: Totally with you on Gerald. You'd think he would have a better attitude considering he's dating Helga's best friend, but he's as stubborn as Helga is. He would never admit that. And I'm glad you looked up the song. I thought it was very appropriate for what the child might be experiencing.**

 **Ajay: Hopefully while you're all distracted by this one I can get part II finished. I'd prefer to wait to start posting until the story is mostly complete. It's already about 1/3 the length of this one and will focus more on the politics of policing and the effects that has on the cop on the street. Rhonda will get a storyline of her own. As for the shooting, as far as I'm aware all parties recovered from their injuries.**

 **Guest: It's true that rookies get picked on and tested, but Helga doesn't just pick on rookies. She's mean to everyone, if she acknowledges them at all. And since she only shows her more sensitive side to Arnold and even then, only when they're alone, it makes sense that no one else would believe him.**

 **This chapter was not edited. Please let me know if you find any errors.**

 **This chapter marks the halfway point!**


	27. Chapter 26a

**Birthday**

 **March 26, 0640**

Helga tossed her equipment bag in the passenger seat of PS 326 and strapped it in. She walked around to the driver's side and opened the door. Sitting on the driver's seat was a gift bag with tissue paper sticking out the top. She rolled her eyes. _Great, someone figured out my birthday and now I'm getting fake presents. Might as well get it over with._

Helga picked up the bag and opened it. On top was an envelop. She opened it and removed a plain white card. Flipping it open, it read:

 _Happy Birthday, Blue  
Partners  
-Football Head_

Helga's eyes grew wide. _He knows my birthday?!_ She looked around the motor pool quickly to make sure no one else was around before tearing the tissue paper out of the bag with wild abandon. Inside were two Funko Pop figurines, one Captain America and the other Deadpool. Helga's lips split into a huge grin. She clutched them to her chest briefly, imaging she was hugging a certain football headed dope, before putting them back in the bag. _Today is a good day._

 **A/N: This didn't really fit into another chapter, so it gets its own place. It was necessary, but I was honestly too lazy to try to create an entire chapter around it.**


	28. Chapter 27

**Tesla's Torment**

 **March 30, 1248**

"911 to any patrols in the vicinity of the intersection of State Route 12 and County Route 47, respond priority one for a report of a male subject in the roadway obstructing traffic. Subject is reportedly screaming at vehicles. White male, wearing a blue t-shirt, brown pants, brown shoes. Unknown weapons."

Arnold switched his radio to the 911 frequency and picked up the microphone. "Papa Sierra one zero seven en route," he replied, switching on his lights and sirens. He was covering the north zone and he was only a short distance down the road from that intersection. The radio crackled again.

"Three Two Six en route to assist."

Arnold groaned. He wasn't sure he wanted Helga backing him up on this one. She was certainly good in a scrap, but she wasn't exactly great at de-escalation. Hopefully he would have it resolved before she even got there. Arnold weaved through traffic and arrived on scene only a few minutes from the initial dispatch. He saw the subject in question, a tall man with disheveled hair and a wild look on his face yelling incoherently at passing cars.

"One zero seven, out at last," he called out as he exited his vehicle. He partially blocked traffic with his car, forcing vehicles to go around and giving him a relatively safe lane to work in while he approached the subject. _As long as he doesn't run, that is._ "Excuse me sir! Can you come over here and talk to me please?" he yelled to the man. The man, who up to that point hadn't acknowledged the presence of a police car turned and looked at Arnold.

"Fucking cops! I'll fucking kill you, you pig!" the man yelled.

 _Well, this is off to a great start._ "Listen, I just want to talk to you. How about we get out of the road and talk over here, okay?" Arnold motioned to the shoulder of the road.

The man started striding over, but his body language said "fight" and not "quiet chat."

"We don't need to fight man. I just want to talk, figure out what's going on here. Okay?"

"Fuck you!" the man yelled. The man was about 10 yards away when he reached behind his back and pulled out a large hunting knife.

Arnold put a hand on his weapon and held the other out in front of him. His blood pressure was climbing through the roof. "Hey, none of that! Put the knife down. We can talk this out." Arnold reached for his portable radio microphone "One zero seven to 911, be advised subject is armed with a knife."

"Received one zero seven. Three two six, do you copy?"

"Three two six, copy direct."

The man was still yelling and was now pacing back and forth, holding knife blade down and looking at Arnold the way a large cat eyes its prey. _This guy wants to kill me,_ Arnold thought. His heart was hammering. What to do? Draw his firearm and tell him to drop it? Leave his gun alone and try to de-escalate? Keep some space and wait for Helga?

The man made his decision for him. He raised the knife above his head and charged directly at Arnold at a full sprint. Arnold barely had time to draw his weapon and pull the trigger before the man was on top of him, knocking him to the ground.

* * *

"Three two six en route to assist," Helga said. She switched on her lights and sirens and accelerated. She was the only other unit anywhere close to Arnold's location. _Yeah, because you're practically stalking him, you lunatic. You_ hate _the North Zone, so why are you up here?_ She thought. The call likely wasn't anything to get too excited over. Probably just some nut job off his meds. A quick trip to the hospital and he'd be fine. Arnold would probably have it wrapped up before she got there. _So why am I so worried?_

"One zero seven to 911, be advised the subject is armed with a knife." Helga could hear the tension in Arnold's voice. It wasn't always easy to tell someone's emotional state over the radio, but when you got used to hearing someone's radio calls you could tell when there was something wrong. Arnold was speaking faster than normal, rushing his words and blending them together. _Shit._

"Received one zero seven. Three two six, do you copy?"

 _I'm trying to drive, dammit._ "Three two six copy direct." She was still at least five minutes away. She couldn't go much faster without putting the public in danger. The cars in her lane appeared oblivious to her, despite the lights and sirens. She frequently entered the oncoming lane to get around them.

"911 to one zero seven, checking your status."

Several seconds, each seemingly longer than the last, passed without response.

"911 to one zero seven, checking your status."

Helga was at least a minute out. _He could be dead by the time I get there._

"911 to one zero seven, status." Helga could tell even the dispatcher was worried. Helga finally saw the flashing lights of the other patrol car up ahead. She pulled up behind Arnold's car. _Where is he?!_

"Three two six, I'm out," she said quickly. She didn't bother waiting make sure the dispatcher acknowledged her call. She didn't bother hanging up the microphone. She jumped out of the car and drew her pistol, bringing it to the low ready. "Shortman! Shortman, where are you?!"

As Helga rounded Arnold's car she saw them. The suspect was laying face down on the side of the road, his hands straight out from his shoulders. Arnold was standing a few feet away, two wires leading from his taser into the man's stomach and leg. His uniform shirt was torn on the side from where the knife had slashed him, but it did not appear to have found his body or even his vest. His microphone wire hung limply at this side where it had been knocked loose by the attacker. He smiled sheepishly at her. "Think you could hook him up for me?"

Helga holstered her weapon and removed her handcuffs. After she secured the suspect and stood him up, she gave him a quick pat down and put him in the back of Arnold's patrol car. Then she turned back to Arnold. Anger burned in her blue eyes so brightly that Arnold took a step back.

"What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, Hair Boy!" she yelled. She pointed a finger at him and began marching at him with much the same purpose as the crazy man that was now in Arnold's car.

"What are you talki- "

"You know God damned well what I'm talking about!" she interrupted. "You do _not_ engage an armed suspect with a taser without a cover officer! You _know_ that!" She got right in Arnold's face and pushed him with both hands, making him stumble backward. "The taser has too high a failure rate to risk your life like that!"

"Helga, it's fine. It worked, and nobody got hurt."

"It _worked?_ Look at your shirt, you God damned lunatic! He could've killed you!"

"What is your problem? I'm alive, and so is he!" Arnold yelled back. She stopped in her tracks, momentarily taken aback.

"What's my problem? My problem is I thought I lost you!" she yelled, tears forming in the corners of her eyes.

That apparently wasn't what Arnold was expecting to hear. "You… thought you lost me?"

 _Why'd I have to say it like that._ "I thought I lost you," she said quietly as she looked down. "You didn't get back on the radio after calling out the knife. I thought you were hurt. Or dead. And I can't lose you."

Arnold stared at her, his mouth open. "Helga, I appreciate that you don't want to lose a co-worker, but- "

Helga balled her fists and stamped her foot, squeezing her eyes shut. "I can't lose _you_ , you stupid football head! Don't you fucking get it?"

"Helga, I… no, I guess I don't."

 _He is so dense. What a dope._ The tears were flowing freely now. "You're the only man in this world that has ever shown me kindness, Arnold. I can't lose you. I… love you." The last sentence caught even Helga by surprise.

He gaped at her. "You… what?"

 _You're in too deep now, ol' girl. Might as well just take the rejection._ "I love you, you fucking idiot."

 **Note: Okay, I was really waiting for my editor to get to this because this is obviously a very important chapter, but I don't know when that will happen. So here you go.**

 **Training dictates that if an officer is going to engage a suspect armed with a lethal weapon with a taser, it is to be done only with a covering officer that has a lethal weapon (his firearm). Tasers are ineffective against thick clothing and people on certain drugs or with certain medical conditions, and it's easy to miss your second prong when shooting at a moving target. Without both prongs making contact, the suspect will not be incapacitated, hence the lethal cover officer. Typically, a suspect that is within 21 feet (about 7 meters) will be on top of you before you can draw your weapon from the holster and fire an aimed shot. This is known as the Tueller Drill. The Tueller Drill is extremely important in use of force scenarios as it informs the potential victim's decision making process and what can realistically be considered a lethal threat.**

 **I should note that chapter 26 was not intended to be a criticism of State officers. It's an illustration of how one piece of bad information can have a cascade effect on all future decisions. The initial responding state officers mis-heard the sergeant and didn't hear the "next to" part of the transmission in regard to the house with the light. They passed the part they heard on to their own sergeant, who took over the scene. That sergeant did everything right EXCEPT for one thing; he never directly spoke to the guy that got shot at. As a result, all of his otherwise correct decisions ended up being dangerously wrong. With the speed at which the decisions had to be made, it's understandable that this sort of thing happened. I don't blame the State sergeant for the decisions he made, but I certainly learned from the experience.**

 **Ajay: He could always have Fuzzy Slippers as a confidential informant.**


	29. Chapter 28

**Admissions**

 **March 30, 1838**

Arnold laid his head on his arms, which in turn laid on the high-top table. Gerald sat patiently across from him, waiting for his friend to say… anything. Gerald didn't know what happened that day, but he knew something went down on the taser call. After a few minutes Arnold finally lifted his head. His eyes looked tired.

"She said she loved me," Arnold muttered.

Gerald wasn't sure he heard him right. "Pardon?"

"Helga. She said she loved me. At the scene."

"She just dropped that bomb on you like it was no big deal?"

"Oh no, it was very much a big deal. She was crying, saying she thought she lost me when I didn't answer on the radio."

"Helga G. Pataki was _crying_? And she said she _loved_ you?" Gerald was having difficulty comprehending the scenario Arnold was laying before him. _Helga the Harpy, reduced to tears? By_ Arnold _?_

"Yup. Said I was the only man that showed her any kindness, that she couldn't lose me, and that she loved me. Trust me, man, I was just as shocked as you are right now."

Gerald realized his jaw was hanging open. "What did you say?"

Arnold groaned. "I didn't say anything."

"Arnold, the craziest woman either of us has ever met tells you she _loves_ you, after making you miserable for most of your time here, and you don't say _anything_?"

Arnold sat up. "What the hell am I supposed to say to that?"

"Uh, I don't know, 'thank you'? 'I appreciate the thought, but I like you as a friend'? Or God forbid, 'I love you too?' Basically, anything besides nothing at all?"

"That's just it Gerald, I didn't know what to say because I didn't know how I felt about her. A big part of me sees her as my partner and friend, a part sees her as the crazy woman she puts out to the world, and part of me… part of me wonders if I don't feel some genuine affection for her. Then she says it was just the heat of the moment and to pretend it never happened."

Gerald's phone pinged. He looked at it briefly and scowled. "Well you better come up with something soon, my friend. Because Phoebe is here, and she sounds _pissed_."

Arnold's face fell. "I don't suppose I can slip out the back before she gets here."

" _You!"_ a female voice yelled behind him.

"Nope," Gerald said.

Phoebe walked up to Arnold and shoved him so hard he fell out of the chair. He barely got his legs under him before the chair fell over. Phoebe started punching him in the arm repeatedly. "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?! You must be the densest person I've ever met, and I'm dating _Gerald_!"

Gerald frowned. "Why am _I_ getting dragged into this?"

Phoebe shot him a look and pointed a dangerous looking finger at him. "You stay out of it!"

Gerald put his hands up in surrender. "Staying."

Phoebe wasn't sure if he was mocking her or not, but she didn't care. She turned back to Arnold. "That girl tells you the biggest secret she's ever held, and you don't even have the balls to say _anything_ to her? Not a fucking _word?_ " People in the bar were starting to stare. Gerald backed away slowly toward the bar and the safety of another beer.

"I didn't know what to say! She dropped that bomb on me and I didn't know what to do with it!" Arnold protested. _Is this really Phoebe? She's acting more like Helga right now,_ he thought.

"Because your football shaped head is so far up your own ass that you can't see what's right in front of you! I _know_ you're aware of how hard it is for her to open up about _anything_. You've gotten a glimpse of what things are like at home. Helga behaves the way she does so that she doesn't get hurt, but you hurt her worse than anyone possibly could have by keeping your mouth shut. You would have done less damage by saying you didn't love her at all!" Phoebe's hands were balled into fists, the knuckles white. Her face was red, and tears of anger were sneaking out of the corners of her eyes.

"Phoebe… I just…"

"You just _what_ , Arnold? She's sitting at home right now, crying her eyes out, because she thinks she just ruined one of the most important relationships she's ever had with anyone. And you don't even know the things she's done for…" Phoebe trailed off. She may have overstepped on that one, and she knew it. _Arnold is dense,_ she thought, _but he's definitely going to catch that._

He glared at her. "What do you mean the things she's done for me? You mean all the grief she gives me any time someone is around? The mixed signals I get from her all the God damned time? The crazy calls she gets me wrapped up in? Tell me if I'm missing something, Phoebe, please. Because I feel like you mean something specific."

Phoebe sighed. _Helga will kill me, but it's for her own good._ "How do you think Audrey came home?" she asked quietly.

Arnold blinked. "Helga had something to do with Audrey Peterson?"

"Helga called me after you went into the locker room to change and asked me if I could crack a cell phone. We have a machine that can do it in the lab, but I need a sworn deputy to supervise me. She signed off on it and we buried the paperwork, so no one would ask questions. Questions which never arose because Helga found texts from some idiot, located him through Facebook with pictures of Audrey on his profile, drove out to his place two counties over, and illegally entered his residence to get her out and bring her home. She dropped her off that night and swore the kid to secrecy because she didn't want you to know she did it."

Arnold stared at Phoebe in shock. _Helga was my Christmas miracle?_ "Helga risked her entire career to find my missing person in time for Christmas? She risked _jail_ for…me?"

Phoebe nodded. "She's been infatuated with you from the start. Before your field training was over, she was in love with you. But she couldn't let you know because she never felt worthy of you. Helga has never known her worth. She's more damaged by her parents neglect than anyone knows. But Helga has a great heart. You… can't tell her you know."

"Why not?"

"She didn't do it for recognition. She did it because she wanted you to be happy. She cares more about your happiness than she does about anything for herself. She never wants recognition for anything she does. Helga is tough in many ways, and remarkably delicate in others."

Arnold nodded slowly. "That much I figured out." He rubbed his face with both hands. "Phoebe, I'm being totally honest when I say I don't now how I feel about her and what she said. I care about her deeply. She was my partner for months, and I feel like she's a good friend when it's just the two of us. But she tossed this on me out of the blue." _Her nickname. Our_ private _nickname._ "I… I may love her too. I just never thought of her in those terms. She made things clear she didn't want to date anyone, let alone me."

Phoebe smiled sadly. "Well, you're going to need to think about it, and then you're going to have to talk to her about all of this. For what it's worth, I think you would both be good for one another."

Arnold snorted. "Don't tell that to Gerald."

Phoebe nodded. "He doesn't see her the way you or I do. He only sees the Helga everyone else does, the one she _wants_ them to see. But you. You found a way through the wall, somehow. No one else has ever done that."

Arnold stared at the table for a moment, then stood up and started to put on his jacket. "I need to talk to her."

Phoebe shook her head. "No, not right now."

Arnold looked at her. "You said she's sitting at home crying. I won't let her do that on my account."

"Arnold, don't talk to her until you figure out how _you_ feel about _her_. Otherwise you're not going to solve anything. She'll make it through this. Even when Helga's broken she's still as tough as they come. She's a phoenix in that regard."

Arnold gave a slight smile. "I have no doubt. She really is one of kind."

Phoebe nudged him with her elbow. "And don't you forget it… bucko."

Arnold grinned. "You're something yourself, Miss Phoebe. When I finally do talk to her about this, I'm going to make sure she knows you came in here like a tiger. She'd be proud of you."

Phoebe blushed. "I'm sorry. You made me pretty mad. I hate seeing her get hurt, and I told her that you, of all people, wouldn't hurt her. She's really a beautiful person inside."

Arnold looked at the floor. "Inside and out," he whispered. Phoebe heard it and smiled. Arnold looked at her. "Can you do me one favor?"

"Of course."

"Tell Blue not to give up on me just because I've got paste for brains."

Phoebe gave him a confused look. "Blue?"

"Her eyes," he said.

"Ah."

* * *

Helga laid on her bed with her cell phone in her hand, gazing at the photo of her and Arnold with their arms around one another, smiling. _I ruined it. I ruined everything. The best thing to ever come into my life and I broke it. I never deserved any of it._ She clutched the pink ribbon in her other hand and pressed it to her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut and tears ran down her cheeks. Her phone pinged, and she opened them slowly. It was a text from Phoebe. _I told her not to go down there. I told her to just leave him alone._ She opened the message.

"Blue, don't give up on me just because I've got paste for brains"-Football Head

Helga allowed herself a sad smile. In that moment, she remembered Shakespeare.

 _When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes,  
I all alone beweep my outcast state,  
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,  
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,  
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,  
Featur'd like him, like him with friends possess'd,  
Desiring this man's art and that man's scope,  
With what I most enjoy contented least;  
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,  
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,  
Like to the lark at break of day arising  
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;  
For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth brings  
That then I scorn to change my state with kings. _

_All hope is not_ lost, she thought. She finally closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

 **A/N: I was told I'd have reviewed chapters last night but sadly, that did not happen. Being an impatient fellow, here's another one. Let me know what you think of the ending. I'm not sure if I like it or not.**

 **Kryten: No, not really. Arnold is dense, but this older version of him is somewhat less so. But he's still slow when it comes to working out feelings.**

 **Nep2uune: Will it be Arnold or Helga that freaks out?**

 **Guest: Dispatch wouldn't have been able to hear that. Luckily for Helga, someone has to be holding down the transmit button on a radio for them to hear anything. That's one of the things that makes being a dispatcher difficult. You send people you know (and maybe even like!) into dangerous situations and you won't hear from them for minutes. It's stressful not knowing what's going on at the scene, especially when you're charged with making the decision to send extra help or not if you can't reach that person. And this is an intersection in a rural part of the county. There may be cars there, but no pedestrians. So, it's unlikely that any of the passersby would have heard her. She's safe, for now.**

 **Ajay: The incident occurred off the frame of Arnold's dash cam, so Wartz wouldn't have much to go on for disciplinary proceedings (only particularly fancy departments have those 360-degree cameras on their cars; we have one facing forward and one that covers the prisoner compartment). Fuzzy Slippers will definitely be referenced in part two. Also, my big hang-up with edited chapters is that I enjoy getting a female perspective before I post anything with Helga or Phoebe. I'd be lying if I said I had even the slightest understanding of the female mind. If I did, I would not have been single for as long as I have been. She's also not very familiar with either police work or Hey Arnold, so her perspective on the story is relatively fresh.**


	30. Chapter 29

**Index**

 **March 31, 1308**

Arnold held the rifle to his shoulder as he walked slowly down the hallway. The officers on either side of him held their pistols at the ready. He didn't know either one of them, which was typical for an active shooter scenario. You teamed up with whoever made it to the scene, and often you wouldn't be familiar with them. He was anxious, his heart beating quickly. They had heard shots somewhere in the hallway, but there were many doorways lining the left side. Each led to cramped multi-room apartments.

Someone suddenly stepped into the hallway from the last doorway. Arnold froze. The man was standing facing the opposite wall at a right angle to Arnold, so he couldn't see the man's left hand. Arnold raised the rifle. "Don't move! Show me your hands!" he yelled.

The man looked at him before turning and raising his left hand. He had a handgun, and he was pointing it at Arnold. Arnold's finger moved to the trigger, but he couldn't pull it. He was breathing fast, sweat was dripping down his face, but even though this man was about to kill him, he couldn't pull the trigger. The man's pistol barked, and Arnold felt pain as a round impacted on his forearm. Arnold's companions returned fire, dropping the man in a flurry of projectiles. Arnold and the officer to his right covered while the other officer secured the suspect.

"Index! Index! Index!" someone yelled. It was supposed to be 'end-ex' for 'end exercise,' but for some reason everyone pronounced it like 'index.' Arnold removed his helmet and rubbed the paint mark left on his arm by the sim round. _These things hurt._

The other officer was already uncuffing the suspect. When his hands were freed, the man pulled off his helmet to reveal that it was Gerald. He looked down at that many paint marks on his helmet and chest. "Glad I was wearing this vest. Otherwise that would've hurt. Good shooting man." Gerald gave the officer a fist bump. He walked over to Arnold and whispered to him. "Man, what the fuck happened there?"

"I don't know Gerald," Arnold said. His voice wavered slightly. "I just… I couldn't pull the trigger, man. I don't know why."

Gerald gave him a concerned look, but before he could say anything else he was interrupted by the instructor. "Deputy Shortman, is it?"

Arnold turned to face him. "Yes, sir."

"Why didn't you discharge your weapon, Deputy?"

"I, uh. I honestly don't know sir."

The man gave him an impatient look. "You don't know." It was a statement, not a question.

"No sir. I just, froze, I guess."

The man sighed. "Deputy, if you can't do it here with sim rounds, how are you going to do it out in the real world, when a life is on the line?"

Arnold scratched the back of his neck. "Well sir, I prefer to talk my way out of most situations." _And I used to have Helga around to scare everyone else into submission. I wonder what she's doing right now?_

"Deputy, you're not going to be able to talk yourself out of everything. Scenarios like these may be statistically rare, but you don't care how rare it is when it happens to you."

"Yes sir."

"The men on either side of you were in the line of fire. Are you or are you not also responsible for their safety?"

Arnold flinched. "I am, sir."

"And if you're alone, and this man is shooting up an office building, or a mall, or a school, or even just his wife, are you going to hesitate?"

"No, sir."

"You'd better not, Deputy. Because if you hesitate and he kills you, not only do we have another victim, but he has access to your gun, your radio, and your car. And I'm pretty sure you can imagine how being in possession of any of those things compromises the safety of the next responding officer. And not for nothing, but I've been to enough cop funerals already. I don't need to hear Amazing Grace played on the bag pipes ever again."

"Yes sir. I'm sorry sir."

The instructor nodded at him. "I expect you to do better in the next scenario, Deputy. Otherwise I may have to fail you. And I don't want to do that. For everyone's sake." The instructor patted him on the shoulder and walked to the other officers to provide them with their evaluations.

Arnold looked down at the floor, the embarrassment clear on his face. Gerald frowned. "You okay, man?"

"I really don't want to kill anyone, Gerald. I know I might have to, but I'm not sure I'm prepared to do it."

Gerald put a hand on his shoulder. "I know man. But what if it's me that's in his line of fire? I need you to take him down for _me_. What if it's Phoebe?" Gerald took a deep breath and blew it out. "What if it's Helga?"

Arnold shuddered. _She wouldn't hesitate. She'd do whatever had to be done to protect someone, anyone, that needed it. So why can't I even do it in training?_ "I'll get it together."

Gerald nodded. "Alright man."

Arnold stood there in the middle of the hall, staring at the sim rifle in his hands. _Maybe Wartz was right. Maybe in the end I'm not cut out for this._ Arnold sighed and walked slowly back to the training room for the next scenario briefing.

 **Note: This is based on ALERRT Active Shooter scenario training. It was excellent training and I think every officer should attend it at least once a year. That will never happen, but it should.**

 **Guest: They're not at work and it's not a cop bar, so it may not have been the BEST idea for Phoebe to yell at him, but I'm not sure it's the worst thing that's happened. And the potential for Arnold to say something to Helga without thinking it through first was why Phoebe didn't want him to talk to her yet. Unfortunately, in such a small department they won't have a choice about working together.**

 **Guest 2: The Phoenix is a mythological bird that is reborn from its own ashes when it dies. Helga only told Arnold how she felt because she was coming down from a high-stress situation. She has a VERY active imagination, and I'm sure she imagined all kinds of awful ways Arnold could have been dead or maimed on her way to that call. And while Gerald has no love for Helga, Arnold is his main man. He can be an ass, but he knows how Arnold feels about the whole thing. He's not going to put Arnold in that position.**

 **Lilalex: Thank you for the kind words.**

 **Nettie: Thank you as well, but don't hold your breath. Arnold is still… emotionally challenged, in a way.**

 **Ajay & Kryten: Phoebe was a terror as hall monitor. I certainly wouldn't want to get on her bad side. **

**Guest 3 (or as I call you, the "Aww yeah guy"): When you deploy a taser, it can be re-activated with each pull of the trigger. In Arnold's case, the suspect has already shown deadly intent. If Arnold attempts to cuff him, then he can't maintain control over the suspect with the taser at the same time. Cuffing with one hand is awkward and difficult. If he gets one of the suspect's hands cuffed but then the suspect wiggles free, he now has a pointed object that will go through Arnold's vest. Arnold can also pull out a wire or a probe by accident while trying to hold the taser and the cuffs at the same time. If that happens, the taser is effectively worthless; both probes and wires need to be attached to complete the circuit. Or he could bump the trigger by accident and zap the suspect again, which could lead to an excessive force investigation. Overall, it's safer for both the officer and the suspect to simply wait for a second officer to show up and take the suspect into custody. And thank you for the question! I get so few about these sorts of tactical or procedural issues, and I do genuinely enjoy answering them.**

 **My long weekend is coming and work is going to suck tonight, so hopefully this will tide you all over for a day or two.**


	31. Chapter 30

**Veil of Darkness**

 **April 7, 1522**

"Sheriff's Office to Papa Sierra one zero seven."

"One zero seven is on," Arnold answered.

"Patrol to 908 Oak Hill Road. Welfare check on the resident at that location. His attorney states he has not had contact with that subject in several days and that he did not show for court this morning."

"Received, one zero seven en route." A house that far down Oak Hill Road was almost the next county. It took Arnold almost a half hour to get there.

"One zero seven, out at last." Arnold got out of his car and looked at the house. He could clearly see a security camera hidden behind an automatic flood lamp. The driveway led up to two garage bays that were built into the foundation of the house. Arnold squinted at the doors and walked closer. Both garage doors had peep holes in them, the kind that one normally saw on hotel room door. Arnold walked over to the front of the house and opened the glass storm door. The interior door had a small window in the middle and windows on both sides. Despite the sun over Arnold's shoulder, the interior of the house wasn't being illuminated through the windows. Something black was covering them. Arnold knocked on the door before wrinkling his nose. _What's that smell?_ he thought. He looked down and saw that the door jam between the storm and interior doors had three mothballs perfectly spaced on it.

He knocked several more times without an answer. Arnold left the front door and started to walk around the house to check the windows. The windows at the front were too far off the ground for him to see through, but the ground sloped upward toward the back. The back of the house had a wood deck running half its length. There were sliding glass doors closest to Arnold with a gas grill next to it, then some windows, a regular door, and more windows. He would only be able to see into a few of the windows.

Arnold stepped up to the glass doors and leaned forward to look in but was met by a horrible smell. _It smells like… death._ He looked over his shoulder. _Or leaking propane._ He checked the next window and noticed that it also had mothballs in it between the storm window and the inner pane. So did the next window. Arnold peeked through the window on the rear door but couldn't see anything there either. He returned to his car and sat heavily in the driver's seat. "Papa sierra one zero seven to Sheriff's Office. Negative contact at this location, I'll be clear."

"Received one zero seven. Show you clear at 1604."

Arnold held the mic in his hand and stared at his dashboard. Something felt wrong here. He couldn't put it out of his head. _Why the mothballs? And was that smell at the back propane or… something worse?_ He put the mic down and took out his cell phone. He dialed dispatch.

"Sheriff's office, Horowitz speaking, how may I help you?"

"Eugene, it's Arnold."

"Hey Arnold, what's up?"

"Is there a sergeant on right now?"

"No, not tonight. Let me check the list quick for the senior deputy." Arnold heard Eugene put the phone down on the desk, followed by a muted crash and a weak "I'm okay" in the background. A few moments later Eugene came back on the line. "Helga is senior tonight."

Arnold sighed. _I'm not ready to face her yet._ "Alright, I'll call her. Show me back out at my last. Something isn't sitting right with me on this one."

"You got it Arnold. Showing you back out."

Arnold hung up and called Helga.

"What do _you_ want, Football Head?" _Well, at least she_ sounds _normal,_ Arnold thought.

"Hey Helga. I'm out on a welfare check and something doesn't sit right with me." He quickly explained his check of the house. "What should I do?"

Helga was silent for a moment. _Is she thinking about the call, or does she not want to talk to me?_

"Stay there. I'm not that far away. I'll be there in about ten minutes. We'll see if we can make entry when I get there."

"Okay. Thanks Helga."

She muttered something that sounded like "whatever" and hung up. True to her word, she showed up about 10 minutes later. Arnold was already out of his car and pacing. Helga got out. _She looks… tired,_ Arnold thought. He immediately felt guilty. She scowled.

"Did you try the front door?"

"I didn't try any doors. I figured I'd wait for you."

Helga walked up to the front door and turned the knob, but it was locked. "Alright, back door." They walked to the back door and Helga tried that door. It was unlocked. She pushed it open and they were both met immediately by the terrible smell of death. "He's dead," she muttered. She drew her weapon. "Gotta search the building now, bucko. If you find the body, don't go in any further. We'll secure the scene for the detectives."

Arnold gulped and nodded. He drew his pistol and they entered the house. Even breathing through his mouth Arnold swore he could still sense the stench. It hung on every molecule in the air. They walked through the kitchen, Helga turning right to go into the dining room while Arnold walked straight ahead toward a door into a hallway. The hallway led the to staircase. The house was a split level, so the front door led directly a landing with stairs going both up and down. Arnold saw that the front door was covered in a heavy blanket. He turned left and started down toward the rooms at the end of the hallway. He cleared the bathroom and the master bedroom when Helga called out to him.

"He's over here."

Arnold turned around and returned to the stair case. She was looking over the railing. Arnold hadn't noticed it before, but at the bottom of the railing he saw a rope tied around the main support. He peeked over the railing and saw the victim. He holstered his weapon.

"Alright, let's go. We'll wait outside the door and keep it secure until the detective gets here."

They both left and waited outside the door. Helga called Lieutenant Simmons and advised him of what they had. He dispatched a detective to handle the scene and contacted the coroner. Helga and Arnold waited in silence. Neither knew what to say to the other. The detective finally arrived, and they reentered the house. Arnold and the detective went down to the landing to inspect the body.

Arnold had seen dead bodies before, but he had never seen one like this before. He had been hanging there for some time. His skin had turned black and his body was bloated, especially his feet. Blood had leaked from the orifices and run down his pants onto the floor. The rope around his neck was biting deeply into the skin. The detective went about his work, taking photos, seemingly unfazed by the scene. Arnold was having a hard time processing what he was seeing.

"Hey, Earth to Hair Boy." Arnold shook his head. He looked up at Helga, who was at the top of the stairs. "Come on, we've gotta check the rest of the house."

They searched the rest of the residence and found notes in almost every room. Notes apologizing to family members, expressing love for them, and references to the Bible. A Bible was left open next to one note with highlighted passages. His best suit and shoes were laid out on the couch. His financial papers were notarized and labelled. He had been preparing for the day. All of his notes and journal entries were dated, with the last day being March 26, the day before Easter. The house was filled with crosses and religious items.

"Hey Detective, when was the last time anyone heard from this guy?"

"His lawyer last heard from him on March 25th. The family even longer. I checked his phone, looks like he called almost every family member on the 27th but none of the calls lasted more than a few seconds."

"Easter Sunday," Arnold muttered.

"Huh?" Helga looked at him.

"This place is covered in Christian stuff. The guy laid out his Sunday best. He was obviously very religious. Some Christians take Easter very seriously. His life was falling apart, his own kids wouldn't answer the phone on Easter, so he ends it." Arnold swallowed. "And his own family doesn't check on him or call us to do it. His lawyer was the only person that cared enough to send someone to look for him. So, he just hung here for what, eleven days?"

"It doesn't matter how much you love anyone else if they don't love you back," Helga whispered. Arnold looked at her. _Was that aimed at me?_ he wondered. She looked sad, her eyes focused on something distant.

"Well, the coroner is here so let's get him loaded into a bag and get him out of here," the detective said. "Shortman, you're going to help get the body bag around him, then we'll cut him down."

Arnold and the coroner struggled to get the body bag up around the body as it swung slightly from the rope. Arnold was prepared for some horrific end to their endeavor, like the head separating from the body or the body exploding under the pressure of gases building up within it. But they were able to get him down without anything so dramatic. The coroner loaded the man into a funeral home van and they were finally free to leave the residence while the Detective did his final inspection of the scene. They stood outside in the fresh air, but Arnold could still smell death in his nostrils. He was sure it permeated every thread of his uniform and every pore on his body. He would have to shower for an hour to get rid of the smell.

Helga leaned against her car and crossed her arms. Arnold looked at her. "I don't think I've seen anything this… tragic before." He said.

"Get used to it, bucko. This whole job is tragedy and misery. Don't expect to see anything good come out of it."

He leaned against the car next to her. "Then I guess it's up to us to bring some light into the world while we do it."

Helga snorted. "Good luck. Criminy, I'm not sure how you can stay so upbeat all the time. Sometimes life is just shit and there's nothing you can do about it. Just accept it and move on to the next shitty situation. Because that's all this job is. One awful or petty or horrible or tragic thing right after another."

Arnold looked at the ground. "Helga, about the whole taser thing, I- "

Helga pushed away from the car. "We're not talking about that. It's over with. We agreed it was just the heat of the moment."

"But Helga, I need to- "

"I said forget it, Shortman. I don't _want_ to talk about it, capiche?" She was getting angry. The floodlight illuminated her face enough for him to see the flush in her cheeks and the fury building in her eyes.

Arnold grabbed her arm. "No, we need to talk about this."

Helga looked at his hand, then stared into his eyes. The anger he could see there shocked him into letting go. "I said we're _done_ talking about it. And don't you _ever_ touch me like that again." She stalked around her car and climbed in the driver seat, slamming the door behind her. She started the car and drove off, spinning dirt and rocks onto Arnold in the process.

Arnold sighed. The detective came up behind him. "What was that about?" he asked.

"I'm not even really sure anymore."

 **Note: This was my first suicide scene.**

 **Blue: Life or death decisions have to be made in seconds and I feel one of the hardest parts of the job is coming to terms with the fact that you realistically could have to take a life. It's a terrifying prospect.**

 **Nettie: You would be better at writing Wittenberg than I am, that's for sure. I have a really hard time coming up those mis-pronunciations and improper uses. I have a whole new appreciation for how hard it must have been for the show writers. The training uses Simunition (the trade name of the ammo) which fires something similar to a small paintball. What makes it very useful from our perspective is that the barrel and magazines replace those parts on our actual service weapons (rifles and pistols) so you're training on the exact weapon that you will carry in the field. It is indeed an "incredible stimulation." It's also insanely stressful and they hurt. A lot.**

 **Guest: Thank you for the story. That sounds similar to the situation I was in, although I thankfully was not alone. Your father must have had some pretty serious restraint. But I feel like suspects in those life or death situations can read an officer's expression to know if they're serious or not. The taser incident was also based on a situation one of the other deputies dealt with, except he had two state officers covering him with handguns.**

 **Nep2uune: While those would probably be better positions for Arnold (or perhaps a School Resource Officer), generally there is a bit of office politics in getting those types of positions. The higher ups have to like you well enough to send you for the training. And in our office, a detective position is a civil service post. This requires a test, and eligibility for the test requires a minimum number of years on road patrol before you can even take it. No, officers don't really want to kill anyone. At least I don't. But I've accepted that I might have to. And I don't believe Arnold is letting the Helga situation affect him. Arnold is an idealist. He wants to save everyone. And if everyone can be saved, why would he need to kill them? It goes against his core beliefs. He accepts the possibility logically but not with his soul.**


	32. Chapter 31

**Physical Domestic**

 **April 19,2122**

Helga had been running radar for twenty minutes and still hadn't see anything worth pulling over. _This is why I hate the North zone. If it wasn't for that stupid football head…_ She pulled out her phone and opened the photo gallery. She gazed longingly at the photo from the bar months before, when Arnold had put his arm around her. He had an easy smile on his face. He almost looked happy to have his arm around her. She sighed. _If I hadn't screwed it up by letting him know how I actually feel, maybe we could be friends. I'm so god damned stupid._

"Pataki!"

Helga jumped, knocked out of her reverie by a gruff voice. "Dammit Sarge, are you trying to give me a heart attack?"

Sergeant Wittenburg glared at her. "Pataki, I don't believe you are realizing your potentialities as a traffic enforcement officer."

Helga glared back. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're sitting out here at the ass end of the county on a road with almost no traffic staring at your phone. You tell _me_ what that means."

Helga sighed. "Sorry Sarge. I guess I've been a little distracted lately." _I should text him. I haven't spoken to him in almost two weeks._

Wittenburg raised an eyebrow. "Did… you apologize? Is something wrong, Pataki?"

Helga looked down. _This sappy shit is making me lose my edge._ Helga opened her mouth to speak.

"911 to all units in the area of 13 Cantonville Rd, cross streets Hillwood Parkway and Worth Avenue, respond priority one for a physical domestic in progress. Female caller states that male subject struck her and threatened to kill her before locking himself in the bedroom. Unknown weapons. Caller disconnected."

Wittenburg groaned. "I know that address. Domestics every week. Follow me over Pataki." Wittenburg sped away without waiting for a response, lights and sirens activated. Helga followed closely. They were right around the corner.

The radio scratched. "Papa Sierra zero one zero and three two six en route. ETA zero three."

They pulled up on the street a short distance down from the house. Wittenburg exited his vehicle and started walking toward the house as Helga parked her patrol vehicle. Wittenburg had just walked past the front of his SUV when Helga heard a series of loud pops. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Helga saw holes appear in the hood of the patrol car and Wittenburg fell to the ground in the street. Helga looked at the house and saw flashes coming from a window on the right side of the house. She drew her weapon and activated her radio.

"Three Two Six, shots fired, shots fired! Officer Down!" Helga fired two rounds at the window of the house and ran over to Wittenburg's SUV. He was rolling on the ground clutching his leg. Bright red blood was pooling around him. Helga peaked around the back of the car and was met with more shots ripping through the vehicle body. Auto glass shattered and fell around her. She holstered her weapon and got behind the rear wheels.

"Pataki, what the hell are you doing?!" Wittenburg yelled.

"Saving your stupid ass, now stop yelling!" Helga ran up to the front wheels. She peeked over the hood again but couldn't see anyone in the window. Wittenburg was only a few yards in front of the SUV, but there was no cover for either of them. No curb, trees, shrubs, or fences. If she went out there she'd be entirely exposed.

"Pataki, get back to your car! I'm too big for you to drag! That's an order!"

"Stop attracting attention!" The radio was squawking but she wasn't paying attention. She didn't have time. Wittenburg had an arterial bleed and he would be dead in a few minutes if she didn't do something. "Get your gun up. I'm going to drag you back."

"Pataki, I'm twice your weight!"

"Stop arguing!" Helga ran out and looped her arms under Wittenburg's shoulders. She was in excellent shape, but Wittenburg weighed almost 300 pounds and she was a mere 150. _You're the only chance he's got, now pull!_ Helga heard a door slam and looked at the house in time to see the front door hit the wall. A man stood in the doorway pointing a rifle at her. Time froze. _This is it. This is how I die. I somehow thought it would be more poetic than this._ Auditory exclusion set in and the whole world was remarkably silent, almost peaceful. _Perhaps the quiet is a poetry of its own._ But something was wrong with the scene. The man ducked back inside as little puffs of dust appeared alongside the doorway. She looked down at Wittenburg. He had drawn his pistol and was firing at the man, yelling something but Helga couldn't hear any of it. Helga shook her head. Sound rushed back. She could feel the adrenaline dumping into her body. She pulled Wittenburg with all her might and finally got him to the relative safety of the front vehicle wheels.

"Dammit Pataki, why are you still here?"

"You are the most infuriating man I've ever met, do you know that?" She scowled as she pulled the tourniquet out of Wittenburg's belt holster and started wrapping it around his leg. He was already looking pale. She tightened the strap and twisted the windlass. The bleeding slowed and appeared to stop. She started to pull the first aid kit from his belt but Wittenburg grabbed her hand. "I need to use the quick clot," she said.

"Pataki, stop for a second." His tone was soft, sincere. Not his usual bluster. She looked at him. "This scene isn't secure. Your eyes have been off the target too long already. You don't know where the shooter is and you have no backup. Situational awareness, kid. Don't get tunnel vision. There's no sense saving me if he comes around the side of the car and kills both of us."

She screeched in frustration but she knew he was right. She drew her weapon and looked around the front bumper. The door was still open but the shooter wasn't there. She scanned the front of the house but she still couldn't see in the windows. The vehicle blocked her view of the right side of the house so she moved to rear bumper and looked around it. There he was, moving up the side of the house about 25 yards away. She backed away from the vehicle slightly and leaned out, keeping as much of her body behind the car as possible. "Show me your hands!"

Her heart was hammering in her chest as he raised the rifle. She started shooting, which made him flinch and duck back behind the house. She had no idea how many rounds she fired. _Criminy, where the hell is everyone? It's been like twenty minutes!_ He stuck his head around the corner again and fired, forcing her behind the car. She looked under the vehicle and saw his feet. He was running toward the car and angling toward the front. She looked over at Wittenburg but he was barely conscious. She took a deep breath. _Do not go gentle into that good night,_ she thought as she stepped around the back of the car. _Maybe that's not what the poem was about, but it works right now. I need to stop stealing other people's poems and write my own about this shit._ The shooter was running full bore toward the front. She started shooting but her lead was off. She tried to correct but she wasn't sure if she was missing him entirely or he just wasn't feeling the rounds. He stopped and turned toward her, raising the gun to his shoulder. She fired one more round and the slide locked to the rear. She hit the mag release but she already knew it was too late.

When the bullet hit her right arm, it felt like getting hit by a sledge hammer. She tripped over her own feet and fell backwards, which probably saved her from the follow up shots. She rolled behind the car, stabbing pain shooting through her arm. It took her breath away. Helga crawled back to the rear bumper and sat up against it. She heard the sound of something metal hitting the pavement. She looked under the car and saw a rifle magazine laying on the ground. _He's reloading. Get your gun back in the fight!_ She had already dropped her magazine so she flipped the gun around and put it between her knees before trying to remove a spare from her pouch. It was awkward, since she only practiced one handed reloads on range day. _One stinkin' day a year at the range. I need to get out on my own more._ She struggled to get the magazine out of the pouch. She finally lined it up with the mag well and slammed it home. She grabbed the frame and tried to catch the slide on her gun belt to release it, but instead the plastic rear sight broke off the gun. _FUCK!_ She tried again, this time catching the ejection port. The slide slammed closed. She started to raise the gun as the shooter came around the car. He was already pointing the rifle at her.

She flinched when she heard the shot. _Funny. I thought dying would hurt more._ Then she heard another. And another. _Kinda sounds like popcorn._ The shooter lowered his rifle and collapsed across her legs. The edges of her vision were starting to get blurry and she wasn't able to fully comprehend what was going on anymore. _Why is he laying on me like that? That's kinda silly._

Movement caught her eye from the other direction and she raised her pistol toward it.

"Whoa, easy Pataki. It's me."

She squinted. "Geraldo?"

"Yeah. Just, stop pointing that gun at me, okay? We're gonna get you two outta here."

"We?"

She became dimly aware that someone was standing behind Gerald pointing a rifle at the downed shooter. She looked up.

 _Arnold, my love, you came for me._

"Gerald, get him hooked up so we can get them out of here!"

Gerald quickly pulled the man off of Helga's legs and put cuffs on him, then patted him down. He found a loaded handgun stuffed in his waistline. As soon as he gave Arnold the thumbs up, Arnold slung his rifle and bent down to Helga.

"Oh no. No, no, no," he started chanting over again. He pulled out his own tourniquet and started putting it on Helga's arm. "Helga, can you hear me? Stay with me now."

"I'm here Arnold," she said dreamily. Her vision was still getting blurry. Color was starting to fade. Blood was spurting from her arm and she knew she had a severed artery.

"Keep talking Helga. I need you to stay awake."

"Arnold I… I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what Helga? You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Sorry I scared you. By telling you I loved you."

"Don't think about that Helga. I need you to stay with me." Arnold finished applying the tourniquet and pulled a quickclot gauze from his first aid kit. He started packing her wound. "You didn't scare me. You surprised me. And I didn't know how I felt about it."

"I'm going to miss you Arnold."

"Do _not_ talk like that! You're not going anywhere, you hear me? You're staying right here with me! Helga? Helga! One zero seven to 911, where are the medics?! I have two officers down with critical injuries!" He released the mic and looked back at Helga. "Helga, I can't lose you!"

 _Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

 **A/N: This is not a real call, however I have studied many police involved shootings and active shooter events. Ambushes of law enforcement have been on the rise in the US since I started the academy several years ago.**

 **The physiological effects of a high stress situation include auditory exclusion and altered perception of time. An incident like this would be over in a few minutes, but it could feel like seconds or hours to a participant. Most departments I know of have annual firearms qualification with no additional training allotted throughout the year. It's on the individual officer to practice more often than that, at their own expense. Most cops are not really into guns (despite media portrayals to the contrary), and since they are actually very rarely required by the overwhelming majority of officers, firearms training falls by the wayside. That said, I _am_ a gun guy and when weather permits I practice with my on- and off-duty handguns and personally owned rifles weekly (I've been out on the range twice this week already). **

**Most officers don't carry tourniquets or hemostatic agents (Quikclot, Celox) on their person. I personally think this is a huge mistake. A severed femoral artery (Wittenburg's injury in this scenario) gives the patient as little as one minute before they'll bleed out. I carry a tourniquet, Quikclot, chest seal, and decompression needle on my person. That should be enough to keep me or a partner alive until a medic can reach me. I also carry a bail out bag with extra ammunition, four tourniquets, Celox ribbons, combat bandages, occlusive dressings, chest seals, airway adjuncts, and gauze of varying sizes. That small backpack has more trauma equipment in it than any of the rescue squads in the county carry on their rigs. Exsanguination is the most common cause of death in mass casualty incidents, primarily because EMS doesn't carry enough equipment to treat it (something like 85% of EMS calls in the US are cardiac related; trauma calls are uncommon, except maybe in parts of Chicago) and police officers don't carry equipment and are often not trained in its use in the first place. I put myself through the EMT-Basic course on my own time so that I could help victims in a hot zone that EMS will not enter.**

 **Unrelated, a good friend of mine surprised me with an early birthday gift and gave me a Helga Funko-pop figure. This was especially funny to me because although she had read the Halloween chapter, she never made it to the birthday chapter.**

 **Nettie: There is a way to prevent flashbacks from incidents like this. It will be addressed in a chapter in Part II of the story.**

 **Nep2uune: Those scenes are always hard, but the elderly are easier to take than young. Thankfully I've only been involved in two suicides, and neither was a young person. But I would have a much harder time dealing with, say, a 16 year old killing themselves than someone middle-aged or elderly. A kid hasn't even had a chance to experience life yet. That tragedy his me harder than someone who at least got through half of it.**

 **Yali: That's not strictly Arnold's fault. Helga isn't exactly the easiest person to approach when she's feeling hurt.**


	33. Chapter 32

**The Hospital**

 **April 20, 2217**

 _What is that incessant beeping?_ Helga opened her eyes slowly. It took a moment to focus. She looked around and saw she was in a hospital room. There where tubes and wires all over the bed, and her nose felt dry from the oxygen that was being pumped into it. She tried to look around and immediately regretted it.

"Owwww…." she moaned.

She heard a rustling noise to her side. "Helga?"

Helga looked to a chair along the wall. It was dark, and her eyes were still fuzzy, but she saw a figure there. She couldn't tell who it was until a hand reached over and wrapped gently around her fingers.

"Criminy Pheebs, I feel like I got hit by a truck. Or a cruise ship."

Phoebe stood up and looked down on Helga. "You almost died. We were all worried."

Helga tried to chuckle but instead coughed. _Why is it so dry in here?_ "We? You and what army?"

"Arnold and Gerald were here until about an hour ago. I came right over after I finished processing the scene and I took over for them, so they could go home and change. They still had… blood all over their clothes," Phoebe said softly.

Helga looked at her friend. "Arnold was here?"

Phoebe nodded. "They brought you and Wittenburg to where the ambulance was staging. Arnold rode with you and Gerald went with the sergeant. They sent you both to surgery but neither one of them would leave until you came out. Arnold sat here all day. Wartz threatened to arrest him for obstruction because he refused to give a statement until you woke up. It took me quite a while to convince him to go home and change. I imagine he'll be returning shortly."

Helga's eyes started to water. "He saved me, Phoebe."

Phoebe nodded. "He did. And you saved WIttenburg."

Helga felt a wave of relief wash over her and started sobbing. "I-I th-thought I fucked up. I th-th-thought I got us b-both killed."

Phoebe leaned over and gently cradled her head. "None of that, Helga. It was an ambush. It was chaos, and anyone would have had a hard time keeping their head on straight."

"I couldn't hit him Phoebe! I put eighteen rounds at him and missed every one! It's like every one of those cop nightmares where you shoot the bad guy, and nothing happens!"

"Helga, you hit him at least five times."

She looked up at Phoebe. "I did?"

"Yes, you did. I saw the body at the scene. Some probably would have been fatal. He just didn't bleed out fast enough."

"Pheebs…" The tears began again.

"Shh. It's alright. Everything is alright." Phoebe stroked her hair gently.

"Thank you, Phoebe. I'm glad you were here when I woke up."

Phoebe smiled softly. "Not Arnold?"

Helga choked out a laugh. "Nah. Hair Boy would have been too needy."

Phoebe chuckled. "I'm telling Football Head you said that."

Helga gave her a mock glare. "How dare you call him that." She sighed. "I'm still very tired Pheebs."

Phoebe kissed her gently on the top of the head and sat back in the chair. "Then go back to sleep. We'll be here for you when you wake up."

" _We'll be here,"_ Helga thought. _That sounds pretty good._

 **A/N: Most cops experience similar nightmares about having to shoot someone and the gun either not working or it has no effect on the target. Or they have to go hands on but can't get a grip on the suspect or can't strike him with enough force to stop him. I've had a few myself. The doubt that you're going to actually succeed when you need to is always in your subconscious.**

 **Handguns are also notoriously poor man-stoppers. The bullet tends to damage only what it touches because of their shape, mass, and velocity. As such they create straight wound tracks. If the round doesn't directly damage a vital organ or artery, it won't incapacitate the subject quickly. Rifle rounds are generally very light for their velocity and their shape causes them to either tumble or fragment on impact. Both cause significant wound tracks, and if the round is still supersonic, it creates what is called a stretch cavity. Basically, the sonic boom travels through soft tissue in the body, causing damage far in excess of the bullet's diameter. Where Helga's handgun would have to directly strike and artery or organ to damage it, the suspect only needed to get a round in the vicinity of Helga's artery to sever it. This is why many departments issue rifles now. Your sidearm is with you at all times, but if you get in a real gunfight, your pistol is supposed to be your means to fight your way back to your rifle.**

 **Nettie: I'm hoping to get a school resource officer position this fall. I think I'd enjoy working in a school. Unfortunately, my agency won't pay to send me to Juvenile Officer school, so I'm forced to take a week's vacation and pay for it out of pocket.**

 **Ajay: Welcome back! We'll get some of Arnold's perspective a little later.**

 **Kryten: I seem to recall you ending a chapter in a similar way in Frenemy Mine ;)**

 **Nep2uune: Unfortunately, that's what happens in this job. Things go from zero to a million miles an hour in a heartbeat. We try to control situations as best we can, but as the old Army saying goes, the enemy always has his say.**

 **Guest: It's normal to send only two units for a physical domestic that is no longer in progress. If it had been on-going, everyone in the area would have been sent. Part of the reason for that statement though was to show that we can get complacent, especially when dealing with same people over and over again. And complacency kills.**

 **Lilalex: Glad you're enjoying it!**


	34. Chapter 33

**Stripes**

 **April 21, 0826**

Helga's eyes opened slowly. It was daylight this time. She felt someone's hand on hers. She looked down and saw that it was not Phoebe's. She followed the hand to its owner. Arnold was asleep, his head propped up by his other hand, the chair pulled up close to the bed.

 _Be still my heart!_ She thought. _He's holding my hand. This is a dream come true._ She tried to shift to intertwine their fingers but was greeted by a stabbing pain in her shoulder. She winced. _Okay, maybe not quite._

Arnold felt her stir and started to wake up himself. He blinked tiredly, his eyes red with exhaustion.

"Criminy, Football Head. You look like I feel," Helga said with a smile.

"I hope you're feeling pretty great, in that case."

She chuckled, then groaned in pain. "No such luck, Hair Boy."

He turned away from her and removed some things from a backpack next to him. "I have some things for you."

"Presents? You shouldn't have."

He smiled weakly. "Sort of. They cut your vest off in the ambulance- "

"They did what now? And you were there?" She crossed her good arm over her chest, as if trying to preserve her modesty. Her face turned pink.

Arnold blushed himself. "They, uh, left your t-shirt on. Anyway, they put the vest on the floor, and I remembered something…" He grabbed her good hand and pulled it away from her body, placing Olga's challenge coin and a pink ribbon in her palm. "I remembered you put the coin there on Thanksgiving, so I checked to make sure it didn't get thrown away. And I found the ribbon pinned to the carrier, so I grabbed that too."

Helga turned the coin over in her hand and savored the feel of the ribbon between her fingers. She looked at them and smiled. "Thank you," she whispered. _My two most prized possessions. And he saved them for me._

"I uh, also did get you a little something." He took her badge and placed it on the bed.

Helga raised an eyebrow at him. "Kinda just looks like my old badge to me."

"Turn it over."

Helga put down the coin and the ribbon and turned the badge over. The back had an inscription on what had previously been an unadorned back.

 _Helga,  
Do not go gentle  
Into that good night  
-Arnold_

She looked at him, eyes wide, shock evident on her face. _How did he know I was thinking of that poem?_

"Why did you choose that particular poem, Shortman?"

He reached behind his neck and averted his eyes. "Well, you were mumbling it in the ambulance after you passed out. Part of it anyway. You kept saying 'Rage against the dying of the light,' so I Googled it and found the whole thing. That particular line seemed fitting, although I'll be honest I have no clue what the poem's actually about."

She smiled at him, a big genuine smile, before tamping down and giving him a sarcastic smirk. "Well, I'll have to think about forgiving your for damaging my property. Something we'll have to discuss."

Arnold smiled tiredly. He opened his mouth to speak when the door to the room flew open.

"Pataki!"

Helga rolled her eyes. "Sergeant Wittenburg."

The sergeant was in a wheelchair and rolled himself backwards through the doorway. When he entered the room, he spun around to face the bed. Helga could see that his injured leg was elevated and heavily bandaged.

"Pataki, the next time I give you an order, repetitively, I expect you to follow it."

"Is that supposed to be a thank you, Sarge?"

He rolled up next to her bed. "No. This is. Hold out your hand, Pataki."

Helga did as he asked, and he dropped two metal pins in her hand. She looked down at the sergeant's collar pins from his uniform. She looked at him in confusion. "I don't get it."

Wittenburg's face relaxed and he suddenly looked very tired. "I'm done, Pataki. Even if I make a full recovery, I'm done with police work. I've put in twenty-five years. I put in my retirement papers." He looked down at the pins. "I'm using my sick time until my recovery is done and then I'm out. It should be a few weeks until I'm officially retired. You should be ready to return to duty by then. I already spoke to the Sheriff and the Captain and they agreed. You're at the top of the Sergeant's list. My job is yours if you want it."

Helga's eyes went wide, and she looked back down at the pins. _I took that stupid test just to prove to all those other idiots I work with that I'm smarter than them._ "Me? A supervisor? I don't know if that's a good idea. I only have five years on…" She looked over to Arnold, but he was no help. He was just grinning broadly at her.

"Pataki," Wittenburg said, "you're the biggest pain in the ass in the agency. Dealing with your personnel complaints alone is a full-time job. But you know your shit, you get things done, and you saved the life of a fellow officer. _My_ life." He rolled back from the bed. "My boy Tucker… his wife is pregnant. I get to see my grandkid because of you, Pataki." There were tears in his eyes. _He's not so different from me. He feels his emotions as strongly as I feel mine. He just hides behind a mask of masculine bravado while I protect myself with barely restrained anger._

"Sarge, I… I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything Pataki. Think it over. I have to go find Tish. She's going to be wondering where I disappeared to."

Arnold walked to the door and held it open for the Sergeant, who rolled out of the room without another word. Helga was still dumbfounded. _I don't deserve this. Why would they want me?_

"Congratulations," Arnold said. It brought her back to reality.

"Uh, yeah, well, I don't know if I'm gonna take it. Then I'd have to deal with everyone else's bullshit instead of my own."

Arnold shrugged but was still smiling. "Whatever you say… Sarge."

Helga snorted. "Don't you go telling anyone about this. I haven't said yes yet. Plus, there are going be some senior deputies that are going to be _very_ upset about it." She smiled. "And I want to see the looks on their faces myself when they find out."

The door opened again. "Baby sister!"

"Hi Olg-oof!" Helga felt a pain in her arm as Olga wrapped her in a hug. "Easy on the merchandise, blondie. That arm is still in rough shape."

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I'm just so glad you're alright. I was so worried! As soon as Arnold called me I drove out."

Helga glared at her. "That's a twelve-hour drive."

Olga shrugged. "It was faster than waiting for the next flight. Mommy and daddy will be here later, but I came straight here."

Helga scowled. "Great. Just what I need. To get a lecture from Bob about how Pataki's don't get shot."

Olga frowned and was about to reply when Arnold interrupted. "I think I'll head out. Helga, if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Football Head. And… thanks. For everything. Especially, you know, the whole, saving my life deal."

He nodded but didn't smile. _Something's wrong_ , Helga thought.

Olga followed him out. "Arnold." He turned, and she wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you. For bringing her back."

He returned the hug. "I wasn't going to lose her. I couldn't."

Olga released him but kept her hands on his shoulders. She smiled at him. "She means a lot to you, doesn't she." It was a statement, not a question.

Arnold nodded. "I guess I didn't realize how much until…" he trailed off. "And I feel like I'm going to need her more now than ever."

Olga frowned. "Are you okay?"

Arnold shook his head. "I… I have some things I need to work out. It's not every day you have to shoot someone, you know?"

Olga nodded slowly. "She'll be there when you need her. I know she will."

Arnold allowed himself a smile. "I know." He looked over Olga's shoulder through the window in the door. Helga was holding the pink ribbon to her chest and staring into space. She looked peaceful, content. The corners of her mouth were turned up in the barest smile. "I know."

 **A/N: I'm an EMT, not a doctor or a nurse. I have no idea what the recovery timeline would be for her type of injury (severed brachial artery).**

 **To those that predicted the coin was going to save her, sorry. A rifle round would go through that coin and her vest like butter.**

 **Since it's my birthday today, I've decided to give you all the gift of another chapter. Don't say I never gave you anything.**


	35. Chapter 34

**Heading Home**

 **April 23, 1051**

"Criminy, take it easy on the arm, would ya?" Helga winced as Olga tried to help her put her sweatshirt on.

"Sorry, baby sis."

Helga was finally getting discharged from the hospital, and she was more than ready to leave. She hated the place with a passion. They finally managed to get the sweatshirt on after Helga gingerly slid her arm through the sleeve. _Damn this hurts_ , she thought.

She went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess, she looked pale and tired. _I look like total shit right now._ "Olga," she said.

"Yes?"

"Can you… can you brush my hair for me before I leave? It looks really awful."

Olga beamed. "I'd love to! Oh, I don't think I've ever done your hair!"

"Yeah, well, I'm not looking for anything fancy. I just need it to look like less of a rat's nest." She reached into her pocket and pulled out the ribbon. "And if you could, maybe tie it up with this for me?"

Olga brushed out her hair, making it look moderately presentable, and tied up her pony tail with the pink ribbon, making a small bow on the top. As Olga was finishing, there was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Gerald stuck his head in. "You ready to go?"

Helga had been hesitant to accept a ride from Gerald, but Phoebe was working, Arnold had to meet with investigators about the incident, and Olga had a long drive back home. She was going to leave straight from the hospital, but she promised to come back out soon.

"Yeah, just a few more minutes."

Gerald nodded. "I'll meet you outside."

Olga and Helga gathered up her belongings, which consisted of a few books Olga had gotten her from home, her pink journal, and the items that Wittenburg and Arnold had brought her. Olga put the things in a backpack and carried it for Helga. They went down the elevator and Helga approached the exit but stopped short. Her mouth hung open.

Lined up outside the exit were two rows of deputies, officers, troopers, rangers. All manner of sworn law enforcement personnel. They all stood at parade rest, awaiting her exit.

"I can't go out there," she said. She swallowed hard against the lump that formed in her throat. _This isn't real. It can't be real. This is going to be embarrassing._

Olga smiled at her. "Sure, you can. They're here because they want to be. Now go." Olga nudge her toward the door. The doors opened in front of her.

"Detail, atten- _tion!_ " The officers snapped to attention. "Pre-sent, _arms!_ " The officers rendered a salute. The first officers in line were the Sheriff himself, Captain Wartz, and Lieutenant Simmons. At the end of the row was her patrol car. Gerald stood next to it in full dress uniform, along with Arnold, Sergeant WIttenburg, Tish, and Tucker. Wittenburg was also in uniform. Helga sheepishly walked past the honor guard toward the car. As she approached the car, Wittenburg forced himself to a standing position, holding on to Arnold for support. He rendered a salute to Helga as Gerald opened the passenger door to the car. Helga slowed. She looked Wittenburg in the eye and saw tears gathering in the corners. She teared up herself before standing up straight and awkwardly returning the Sergeants salute with her left hand. He nodded to her and stiffly sat back down. Tish and Tucker shook her hand and whispered thank yous. Olga have her a goodbye hug.

"I'll see you soon," she said quietly. Helga nodded silently. She knew if she tried to speak her emotions would betray her. Helga climbed into the car.

"Detail, order _arms!_ "

Arnold smiled at her from outside the vehicle and put his hand on the glass. Helga reached her hand up and mirrored his movement. Gerald slowly pulled away and began driving Helga home. She struggled to keep the tears under control and they drove home in silence. She looked out the window as they drove.

"So, how does it feel to be a hero, Pataki?"

She turned to look at him, anger bubbling up inside her. "What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Uh, I mean, you kinda saved Wittenburg- "

"You think I _asked_ for… whatever _that_ shit was out there?"

"Pataki- "

"Well I didn't, bucko. I don't need validation from them or you or anyone else."

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Because I don't need anyone's pity and I don't need anyone's admiration. I did what I did because it was the job and it was _right_. I don't need or want anything, _especially_ thatpublic humiliation! I just want to do my fucking job, and on that day that happened to involve dragging an enormous, insufferable man behind a car and getting shot. End of story. I just want to go home and be done with it."

Gerald braked hard, pulled off the road and turned on his rear emergency lights while throwing the car in park. He glared at Helga. "Are you done?"

She shot him an angry look. "No- "

"Well tough shit, because you are now. I don't know what the fuck is going on in that thick head of yours, but if you think what happened back there is just about you, you're not as smart as Arnold and Phoebe seem to think you are."

"Don't bring them into this!"

"Well whether you want it or not, they're involved, because they're your God damned friends! That display there wasn't just about stroking your ego or bizarrely humiliating you. It was about all those other cops out there, the ones that have never had to go through what you did, that wonder if they can do it. Every cop on the planet is terrified of having to go through that call, and only a handful of cops in the country have had to drag a man out of the line of fire. Seeing you walk out of that hospital in mostly one piece is reassurance that they can do it. And as for Arnold, he _needs_ you to be a fucking hero. He took a man's _life_ for you. And if you know anything about Arnold, you know that's totally contrary to everything he believes in. He's a naïve idealist who thinks he can save everyone, and he had to make a choice that killed someone to save _you_. So fucking appreciate that and stop crying about being 'humiliated' for doing something brave."

Gerald braced himself for the inevitable counterattack, but it never came. Helga's eyes lost their fire and she just looked… sad. Her body sagged, and Gerald wondered if he had gone too far. _She just went through a lot too. I shouldn't have been so brutal._ "Pataki, I- "

"How is Arnold?" she said softly.

Gerald blinked. "He's… not great. It's wearing on him. And I don't think he knows how to talk about it, at least not with me. And no one else in the department really knows how he feels. You're the only other person that's had to shoot at someone."

"Gerald, I'm… I'm sorry. I just… I'm a private person, and I really didn't want anyone making a big deal about me. I let it get to me. But you're right. It's not just about me right now."

 _She just… apologized to me? What's going on here?_ "Don't worry about it Pataki. I'm sorry too. Let's just get you home, okay?" He put the car in drive and they continued their trip in silence.

Gerald pulled up in front of her apartment and Helga got out and retrieved her backpack from the back seat. She returned to the open passenger door but paused before closing it. She leaned back in.

"Thank you, Gerald."

Gerald gave her a surprised look. "For what?"

"For the ride, doi." Then she smiled. "And for keeping me from being a cynical asshole, getting me out of my own head for a little while." Her smile faded. "Can you tell Arnold that I'm here if he needs to talk? I think it might mean more coming from you."

"Actually, Helga, it might mean more coming from _you_." Helga smiled broadly. "Now why are you smiling like an idiot?"

"Because you called me Helga and not Pataki."

"Yeah well, don't get used to it."

"Whatever you say Gerald- _o_. And by the way, what are you getting her for her birthday?"

Gerald jerked like he had received a shock. "I, uh, what are you talking about?"

Helga rolled her eyes but kept smiling. "She might want to go that Bodies exhibit at the museum. Just a thought." She winked and shut the door.

 _My man Arnold was right,_ he thought. _That chick is like an onion. Tons of layers and peeling them back is probably going to make you cry no matter what you do._ He shook his head and started back to the station.

 **A/N:**

 **Ajay: Sad that it takes getting shot to get Helga back to talking to Arnold. Talk about stubborn.**

 **Timewarp: My rifle vest uses Dyneema plates, which is a sort of compressed nylon-like fibers. They're rated to stop .308 at the muzzle when placed in front of a IIIA soft vest, and they only weigh about 2.2 pounds. The downside is that they cost considerably more than steel (about 5-6 times more). They're about on par with ceramic plates in terms of cost, though ceramic weighs considerably more and can protect up to level IV. Unfortunately, that vest stays in the car and only gets donned when I already know I'm heading into a hot call. My ceramic plate in my regular soft vest is only rated to stop 7.62x25 Tokarev, .44 Magnum, and 5.7x28. It would probably stop .30 Carbine as well, although it's not specifically listed.**

 **Nep2uune: He does, but she doesn't have the job yet. They can't officially offer her the position until Wittenburg retires. Unfortunately, even though good Sergeants are essential to an efficient agency, they generally don't have much say in who gets what position.**

 **Guest: We'll see. She has her reasons for not wanting the job, which she'll elaborate on later. Arnold will dive into his issues soon.**

 **Guest 2: Almost! Must be the blood loss.**

 **Ezza: Glad you enjoyed it.**


	36. Chapter 35

**Nightmares**

"Three two six, shots fired, shots fired! Officer down!"

It was the radio call that every cop dreaded. Arnold's blood ran cold in his veins. He was at the North Zone substation taking a larceny complaint while Gerald, who had just returned from a training class, was working on a training report. They looked at each other. Arnold turned to the man who was reporting his stolen bicycle. "Sir," he said hurriedly. "We're going to have to finish this later."

The man nodded, his eyes wide. "Of course," he said and ran out the door. Gerald was technically off duty, and he wasn't wearing his vest since he had been in a class room all day, but he had his sidearm and a spare magazine. He had already grabbed Arnold's keys off the table and was running to the patrol car. Arnold followed him and got in the passenger seat.

Gerald lit up his lights and activated the siren. Arnold grabbed the microphone. "Papa Sierra one zero seven, en route to shots fired call. ETA zero five."

"Received one zero seven. EMS en route to stage in the area."

Other units started to respond, some from the neighboring county. Everyone was coming, but no one was as close as they were. The next closest unit was almost ten minutes away.

"Push it Gerald. We're all they've got."

Gerald nodded. It was a good thing it was dark. It was easier to see the emergency lights at night. He weaved through traffic as Arnold hit the release button for the rifle. The lock popped, and he pulled it out. He pointed the muzzle at the floor and pulled the charging handle, chambering a round. _Five minutes has never felt like a lifetime before_. Thoughts began running around in Arnold's head. His failure at the active shooter training made his heart beat even faster, if that was possible.

" _What if it's me in his line of fire?"_ he remembered Gerald saying. " _What if it's Phoebe? What if it's Helga?"_

" _What if it's Helga?"_

 _It's Helga._ Arnold began his combat breathing technique, breathing in for four seconds, holding for four, and exhaling for four and starting again. After several cycles his heart finally started to come back down. He didn't know who was down or what was going on. Dispatch had been trying to get status updates, but Helga wasn't replying. She could be dead already, a thought that filled Arnold with dread.

They were approaching the scene, so Gerald shut off the lights and rolled down the windows. They could hear the gun fire down the street. Arnold heard two distinct types of gunshots, meaning at least one deputy was still fighting. A stray round clipped a tree in front of them and Gerald slammed on the brakes. Arnold was out of the car before it stopped. _Don't think, Arnold,_ he told himself. _Just do._

Gerald grabbed the mic. "One zero seven on scene. Shooter is still active."

Arnold got behind the tree and looked down the street. He could see the two patrol cars parked in front of a house. Wittenburg was laying at the front of the car, his weapon in his hand, but he didn't look to be conscious. Arnold could see Helga laying against the rear bumper reloading her pistol between her knees. _Something's wrong,_ he thought. _She's only using one hand._ He raised the rifle to his shoulder and started advancing, Gerald behind him with his pistol.

Arnold saw Helga get her pistol charged as a man with a long gun came around the back of the car. Arnold's response was on autopilot. _Locate the threat. Engage the threat. Don't stop shooting until the threat ends._ He lined up his sights and fired three rounds in quick succession. The man crumpled and fell over Helga's legs.

"Let's go! Helga's hurt!" he yelled to Gerald. They ran up toward the car. When they were a few yards away, Helga turned toward them and raised her gun.

"Whoa, easy Pataki. It's me," Gerald said.

Arnold wasn't listening. He was focused on the shooter and kept his gun trained on him.

"Gerald, get him hooked up so we can get them out of here!"

As Gerald cuffed the unresponsive shooter, Arnold slung his rifle and ran to Helga. She had entry and exit wounds on her right bicep and blood was spurting out with an obvious arterial bleed. "Oh no." He leaned down in front of her and reached for her tourniquet. "No, no no."

He pulled the tourniquet and reached for her arm, but something was different. Instead of blood coming from her arm there was a pink ribbon hanging from it.

"I'm going to miss you, Arnold."

 **April 25, 0248**

Arnold awoke with a start. He was sweating, and he was tangled in the sheets. He had it again. The same dream, over and over, for days. He held his head in his hands and wept. _I can't do this. I can't handle it alone._ He picked up his phone and checked the time. He opened his contacts and dialed. _Gerald will know what to do._

It rang twice. Finally, a tired voice answered. "Arnold?"

Arnold froze for a moment. "Helga?" He looked down at the phone. It read "Helga Pataki." He hadn't called Gerald. He had called Helga. Had he meant to?

"It's almost three in the morning, Football Head. What's your malfunction?" She sounded annoyed.

He didn't know what to say. _How do I tell her I keep having dreams about her? About the shooting?_

"Arnold? Are you okay?" Her tone had softened with concern.

A sob left him before he could stop it. "Helga, I… I need help. I- "

"I'll be there in twenty minutes," she interrupted. "It's going to be fine, Arnold. I'll be there soon. Hang in there, okay?" Her voice was gentle, caring. He knew she had her moments, but she'd never spoken to him like that before.

"O-okay. I'll unlock the door."

"I'll be there soon. If you need me before I get there, just call me again."

"I will. Thank you." He hung up.

* * *

Helga had never had a more heartbreaking phone call than that. Hearing Arnold, the one who always did for others, sobbing and in need of help tore her apart. She struggled to get a hoodie over her mangled arm and put her sling back on, pulled on sweatpants, threw on her Converse and ran out the door. She shaved a few minutes off the drive with some creative reinterpretations of the traffic law. Helga practically ran up the stars to his apartment and knocked on his door.

"Arnold, it's me," she said softly.

"It's open…"

She walked in. Arnold was sitting in the middle of the couch, his knees pulled into his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. He was staring off into space and looked exhausted. She walked over to him and sat on his right side. She looked at him but didn't say anything. She gently placed her left hand on his arm.

"I keep seeing it. The shooting. Over and over, every night since. Some nights I see it like it happened. Some nights I… I don't make it in time."

"What was it tonight?"

"Tonight, I made it. Except…" he trailed off. Helga waited patiently, not saying a word but imploring him with her eyes to continue. "Except tonight you weren't bleeding from your arm. It was… it was your pink ribbon coming out." He smiled sheepishly and looked at her. His eyes were red and dried tears were obvious on his cheeks. "I guess I'm a real headcase."

 _Buddy, if you only knew what went on in_ my _head,_ she thought. "No, you're not. It was a pretty stressful event, Arnold. You had to do what no cop ever wants to do; take a life. And your character doesn't accept that easily."

"What do you mean? I signed up for this job like you did. Or Gerald. Or anyone else. I knew it could happen."

Helga sighed and looked down. "You accepted the possibility with your head, but your heart never did. I know I call you a goody-two-shoes, but that's what you are. You martyr yourself to help others, and you think everyone can be saved. But they can't. You can't save everyone, because people make their own choices, and sometimes they make bad ones. That man made a bad one, and he put all of us in a terrible position. You had to make a choice to save him or me." She looked up at him again, a small smile gracing her lips. "For the record, I'm glad you chose me."

He struggled to smile, but the tears began again. "I didn't want to kill anyone, Helga. I shot him because I had to, but I didn't _want_ to."

Helga rubbed his back with her hand. "And that's why you're a good cop, and a good man. Because you put aside your reservations and did what had to be done when it was asked of you. You did your duty. It's nothing to be ashamed of." She wrapped her arm around him and pulled him close, laying her head on his. "You don't need to be proud of it, or happy about it, but you can't be ashamed of it. He made the decisions that took his life. He just forced _you_ to be the mechanism of his demise. It could have been anyone. But if it had been anyone else, I'd probably be dead."

She grabbed his chin and turned his head toward her. He averted his eyes. "Arnold, look at me." His eyes darted around, but eventually he looked at her. He drank in the soothing blue orbs. "You saved my _life._ " She moved her hand to his cheek and smiled warmly at him as she wiped his tears with her thumb.

"I… I couldn't lose you, Helga. I couldn't." He started crying again and pressed his head into her shoulder. She wrapped her free arm around him and ran her fingers through his hair.

"Shhh. It's alright. I'm not going anywhere." She rocked him back and forth. "I'm not going anywhere at all."

 **A/N: I'm convinced that most cops don't realistically accept that they may have to take a human life in the course of their duties. We all think we do, but I think most don't think about it as much as they should.**

 **Guest & Nep2uune: Sometimes they just line up outside and clap. Sometimes they do something more official like this. I personally think it shows more respect to an injured officer to break out the ol' drill and ceremonies etiquette. Besides, she didn't just get shot. She dragged a wounded man under fire and saved his life with a tourniquet. I thought Helga needed someone to be contrary in this scene instead of understanding, and Gerald fit the bill.**

 **Lilalex: Hope this meets your expectations for the conversation.**

 **Nettie: Of course, he would. Gerald probably would've sent Helga in his stead anyway, even had Arnold called him first. She's the only one that has even an inkling of what he's going through, but she has a much different mindset than he does (in Part II she'll address her feelings on the whole thing more directly).**

 **Duprenis: Thank you. I'm glad you enjoyed it. I was honestly a little iffy on the first part of this chapter.**


	37. Chapter 36

**The Healing Begins**

 **April 25, 0951**

Arnold's eyes fluttered open slowly. The sun was up and he was laying on the couch. He had a pillow under his head and a blanket over him. He felt… okay. Not great, but he didn't feel panicked or anxious. For the first time in almost a week, he felt like he had actually _slept._ He looked around the room. _Where's Helga?_ he wondered.

As if on cue, he heard the door to the apartment shut. He got off the couch and made his way to the kitchen. He rounded the corner and saw Helga putting something in the fridge. She was listening to something on her headphones and humming along, swaying slightly in time to the music. He noticed she was still wearing the same clothes from the night before. She turned around and found him leaning against the door jam. She had a cruller held between her teeth and a plastic bag in her good hand. She extended her arm and held the bag in his direction. "Bweakfass?" she mumbled around the pastry.

Arnold laughed. "That sounds good to me." He took the bag from her and she reached up to remove the cruller from her mouth, taking a bite as she did so. She pulled out her phone and stopped her music. "You know, with all the junk you eat, I'm amazed you can keep your girlish figure."

Helga shrugged. "I guess I got _some_ good genes from Miriam. My metabolism definitely didn't come from _Bob._ Just the eyebrow."

Arnold opened the bag and pulled out several bagels. "Preference?" he asked.

"Whatever. I got things I would eat, so pick whatever you want."

Arnold sliced two bagels in half and put them in the toaster.

"What were you listening to?"

"The Brothers Bright. Weird Country stuff. I'm sure you're not into it."

Arnold gave her a hurt look. "And why would you say that? You don't know my musical tastes. It might be right in my wheelhouse."

Helga laughed as she took another bite of her cruller. "You're definitely a Disney musical kind of guy. I imagine you singing 'Let it Go' as you skip down the road."

"Skip?"

Helga shrugged and sat down heavily on the high stool at the island in his kitchen. "Maybe I'm wrong. More into Tangled?" She smirked at him.

"I actually like jazz, for your information."

"Ah, that makes sense. You're an old soul, you like old music."

"An old soul, huh?" He smiled as he took the cream cheese package out of the bag and opened it.

"Something like that." She finished her cruller. "I bet you like big band too, huh?"

"Well it _is_ jazz." The toaster popped, and Arnold removed them. He started to put cream cheese on one of the bagels. "I appreciate the breakfast, but you really didn't have to do this."

"Yes, I did. I told you last night, I'm not going anywhere." She shifted uncomfortably, as if she had said something wrong. "You know, until you want me to."

"I don't _want_ you to go. I just don't want you to feel obligated to stay." He placed a bagel on a plate and handed it to her. "You've already done a lot for me. Gerald is the only other person that would have come over in the middle of the night."

Helga picked up the bagel and took a bite. "You called me. I came. That's what a partner does. You came for me when I needed _you_ most. I wouldn't be sitting here if you hadn't."

Arnold looked down, and for a moment she thought she had made a huge mistake bringing up the incident. "You were right, you know. I'm too idealistic. I need to accept that I can't save everyone."

"Maybe, but you need to accept it for the right reason."

He looked back at her. "Meaning?"

She wiped some cream cheese off her finger on the side of the plate. "You just need to understand that people make their own decisions. It's not your fault you had to shoot that guy. But you don't want to lose that idealism, Arnold." She looked him in the eye. "Everyone in that department needs someone like you around to keep them honest. To keep them from descending into cynicism, the 'us versus them' mentality that comes from drowning in the world's bullshit."

He sighed. "I hardly think anyone else there cares what I think. I'm sure they all see me as sappy and naïve like you do."

"Your idealism is your greatest strength and your greatest weakness. It's what motivates you, what keeps you on the straight and narrow. It's also why the horror and the grind of the job hits you harder than a cynical bitch like me."

"I don't think you're really that cynical."

She shrugged. "A realist is always skating the edge of, and usually dipping into, cynicism. You might need me to keep your feet on the ground, but I need _you_ to keep me from falling into the darkness."

Arnold gave her a serious look. "Helga, you don't need me to tell you right from wrong. I've seen you risk your life for strangers and coworkers. You go further than I would sometimes, but your moral compass works just fine."

"Even if mine does, not everyone's is calibrated. Sometimes the only thing that keeps the next guy from straining probable cause or making it up entirely is knowing that someone else isn't going to stand for it. They may see you as a narc, but if it keeps them honest it doesn't matter. It's easy to be like me in this job, Arnold, and just settle into the numbers game of how many tickets and arrests you can rack up. You won't make any enemies in the department being like that. It's hard to be like you, to look at the human cost of our action or inaction, and whether or not making an arrest today is morally right as opposed to legally permissible."

"How do you deal with it? Putting up with the misery and the pain every day for years?" He finally started eating his bagel himself.

Helga looked as though she was about to say something that was going to physically hurt her. "Um, you remember that pink book in my apartment?"

Arnold sucked some cream cheese off of his thumb. "How can I forget? I thought you were going to murder me and hide me in a freezer for it."

"That's better than you deserved. It's my poetry book. I write poetry. It helps me get everything out. I used to hold it in, but I just couldn't do it after a while." Helga looked down at the mostly eaten bagel in her hand. "I have a reputation to protect, though. So, no one can know about that book."

"Helga, I'm pretty sure no one at the office cares if you write poetry. You still make them all look like chumps. But I'm not going to tell anyone, don't worry."

She popped the last bite into her mouth. "I know you won't. I trust you. But that doesn't come easy for me, bucko, so don't abuse it."

Arnold finished his own bagel and leaned against the counter. "How's the arm feel?"

"Hurts. A lot. But a little pain never stopped me from anything. Doing something with my hair is gonna be a pain in the ass though."

"I'm sure we could find that little girl that gave you the pig tails," Arnold said with a wink. "If there's anything you need while you're recovering that I can help with, you know you just need to ask." He sighed. "I think it's gonna be a long road for both of us."

She held out her fist for a bump. "Partners."

Arnold returned it with a grin. "Partners."

 **A/N: I've forgone the editing and I'm just posting now. If you find any issues please point them out.**

 **Tista: You definitely don't get hit with the psychological implications in the moment. It's always after that self-reflection that you start to doubt what you did. Arnold is more prone to that than most. Helga, for her part, fully accepts that she might have to kill someone in the line of duty and very nearly did in this case. She can sleep soundly at night because she's totally fine with killing someone before they kill her.**

 **Lilalex: Glad you enjoyed it. Hopefully work wasn't too bad.**

 **Nettie: I imagine Helga can be extremely caring when she wants to be, even if she would probably doubt she could do it. When she pushes the self-doubt aside and runs on instinct, I think this is how she'd be.**

 **Timewarp: I think he would want to, but at the same time they're not dating and I'm sure almost losing her in this manner made him even more confused about how he feels about her. Arnold isn't the best when it comes to sorting out his feelings.**

 **Ajay: I'll be honest, this chapter originally had less of his thought process when I wrote it. But your review and several others mentioned how much you wanted to see what he was thinking during the incident so I made a few slight additions to flesh that out.**

 **Nep2uune: Every department will place an officer on "paid administrative leave" after a shooting incident. Our policy is that we are on leave for four weeks. For the purposes of the story, Arnold will be out for two. This allows the officer to come down from the emotional roller coaster of the incident, seek help if needed, and for the police investigation to be completed. The investigation is typically handled by an outside agency unless the agency that was involved in the shooting is large (like NYPD or some other large metro department). I'm honestly not sure who would pay for doctor visits. I know my department provides up to three visits to a mental health professional outside of our health insurance, then health insurance can provide for more. However, in a case like this, it might possibly be provided for under workers compensation.**

 **Guest: Honestly, there isn't much that talks about the after effects of a major incident, especially one that may involve taking a life. The director of my academy was an incident counselor for police officers, so he talked about it on his own a few times, but it's not in the state required curriculum. It also isn't something we address at in-service training. Cops generally don't like to talk about the things that bother them and they bottle it up. That's one of the reasons cops suck at marriage and why the suicide rate is much higher than the general population. If you're referring more directly to tactics one should use in a gunfight, believe it or not we really don't cover too much and we definitely don't practice anything beyond actually firing our weapons. Use of cover, the difference between cover and concealment, and the terminal effects of different types of bullets on the human body are barely touched upon, if covered at all. For example, cars are concealment, not cover. Even a handgun round will penetrate both sides of a car unless they strike a steel support. The only parts of the car that you can depend on to stop a bullet are the engine and the wheels. They don't teach at that the academy.**

 **Guest 2: I'm sure Arnold feels a little bad about bothering Helga with things, but Helga doesn't mind. She'll have a chapter in Part II of the story in which she elaborates on how she handled this incident emotionally.**


	38. Chapter 37

**Chinese Chicken**

 **April 27, 1629**

"Football Head, how much longer are you on leave?" Helga called from the living room.

"Uh, I go back next Tuesday, pending my psych eval," he replied from the kitchen. Neither of them had felt much like cooking, so he was putting Chinese food on plates. "And who knows how that's gonna go."

Helga chuckled. "I can't wait for mine. That doc will probably have a breakdown trying to figure me out."

"You're not that bad, Helga."

"Yeah, right. I can't even figure myself out, Hair Boy. How can I expect someone else to do it?"

"Sometimes the outside perspective is all you need." He entered the room and raised an eyebrow at Helga, who was laying with her back on the floor and her legs draped onto the couch. She was flipping channels on the TV while watching it upside down. "Is this some sort of weird yoga thing?"

"You really should have sprung for the HBO package."

"On a civil servant's salary? Have you forgotten I'm still at step one on the pay scale, Miss Moneybags?"

"Oh right. I forget sometimes that you're still a rookie."

He carefully stepped over Helga and set the plates down on the coffee table. "I suppose I'll take that as a compliment." He threw a napkin on her face. "Come eat."

Helga groaned and rolled over slowly and got up on the couch the proper way. "We should have gotten a movie."

"I still haven't watched Serenity," he said as he popped sweet and sour chicken in his mouth.

"You're killing me, Arnoldo. I loaned that to you what, four months ago?" She stood up and went over to the DVD player, searching for movie.

"Uh, yeah, something like that. It's on the right side. Anyway, why did you want to know how much longer I'm on leave?"

"Huh? Oh, no reason. I just, uh, was wondering when I'd have to go back to being all be me onesies again." She found the movie and put it in the player.

"Channeling your inner Jack Sparrow, I see. You're not going to be alone, Helga. Just because I'll be back at work doesn't mean I won't see you. And you know Phoebe will be around most nights if you need her."

"Yeah, well, I also worry about you, ya know." The movie started playing and she sat down heavily on the couch. She stabbed at her sesame chicken.

Arnold regarded her curiously. "You've become much more… comfortable, I guess, this past week."

Helga shrugged. "Yeah, I almost _died_ , in case you forgot. Gives a girl a bit of perspective on things. Don't worry, I can still flip the bitch switch when I need it." She winked at him.

Arnold laughed. "Oh, I don't doubt that for a second."

She gathered more of her food onto her fork. "What're you doing tomorrow? Ooh, water chestnuts!"

"You're out of control tonight. I don't really have any plans, why?"

"I need to go to the gun store."

"The gun store? Since when do you need to go to the gun store?"

"Since the office took my gun as evidence. Not for nothing, but I feel a bit naked without a gun these days." She wiggled the fingers on her right hand. "And the Five Avengers are out of commission at the moment. Ol' Betsy is good and all, but they're kind of tag team."

Arnold shook his head. "I didn't realize you had names for both hands. I just kinda figured you used Betsy as a universal term."

"Nah, that wouldn't be fair to the other half of the team."

He sighed. "Yeah, sure, I'll go with you. But you're not buying anything on the first visit. Just looking."

Helga pouted. "You're no fun."

"Hey, you _asked_ for a chaperone."

"Negative, I asked my _partner_ to accompany me while I make a potentially life-altering decision."

"Life altering?"

"Well, week-altering at least."

Arnold shook his head. "Totally out of control."

Helga nudged him in the side with her good arm. "Don't act like you're bothered by it."

"I don't believe I said I was."

"Now, serious question time."

Arnold wiped his mouth with the napkin. They'd barely eaten anything, and the movie was still at the title screen. But he was remarkably happy even though the food was getting cold. "Okay. What's up?"

"You think when I come back the Captain will let me paint a harpy on the side of car?"

Arnold almost choked on his chicken. "You know about that nickname?"

Helga shoveled more rice into her mouth. "I'm not deaf, ya know. Besides I'm okay with it. You know anything about harpies? Like, the mythological harpy."

Arnold shook his head. "I suppose I don't know much beyond the fact that they're some sort of female monster."

"They were servants of Zeus, who carried bad guys to the Furies. At least that's what Wikipedia tells me. So, I kinda hope it's true. Because I think that totally fits with arresting douchebags and bringing them to court. Makes me a servant to the God of Gods."

"Okay, and what does a harpy actually look like?"

Helga scrunched her nose. "Well, I guess they look a bunch of different ways depending on who's drawing them. Sometimes they're ugly, sometimes they're beautiful. Sometimes they have just the head of a woman on a bird's body. Sometimes they have an anatomically correct woman's body with wings and talons."

Arnold regarded her curiously. "Anatomically correct?"

She punched his shoulder. "Easy there, chuckle head. The closest you're getting to _my_ anatomy is that ambulance ride."

Arnold turned red. "I didn't mean, uh, you know, _your_ anatomy, just uh… I'm gonna shut up now."

Helga smirked at him. "Probably for the best. So, what do you think? Think they'll go for it? I'll promise to maintain their modesty in whatever representation I choose."

Arnold tapped his lip with his index finger. "I think that depends on whether you decide to be Deputy Harpy or Sergeant Harpy."

She pointed her fork at him. "Mmm. Good point."

"Have you made a decision on that yet?"

Helga sat back. "Not yet. I didn't mind dealing with _your_ bullshit while you were on FTO, but I'm not sure I can see myself dealing with half a dozen deputies and having to guide them. I'm fine with telling people what to do, but to take responsibility for them? That's a different ball game. Besides, it'll kill my numbers."

"It's not all about numbers, Blue." Her heart still fluttered when he called her that.

"I know. I mean, it's a sizable pay raise, I'd get to keep my own car and all that, and I'd basically have the same freedom to roam the county that I have now. But I'd also have to spend hours staring at boring reports and I'd have to go to all sorts of calls I can avoid right now."

"You go to all sorts of calls anyway. Especially the nasty ones that turn into fights. I may be a shit magnet, but you actively seek out shit to get into." He smiled at her. "That's part of your rep too, you know. Pataki always has your back in a scrape."

"I dunno, we'll see. I have probably 'til the end of next month to figure it out. Wittenburg rarely took sick days and he's got tons of vacation this year, so he's going to burn everything he's got before he officially retires. They can't actually even offer it to me until that happens." Helga shoveled some more chicken into her mouth. "Criminy, Football Head, are you gonna start this movie or what?"

Arnold laughed. "Whatever you say Helga."

 **A/N:Nettie: That's what I was hoping to convey. I'm glad it came through that way.**

 **Blue: He's still a little slow, but he's getting there.**

 **Nep2uune: This story was how I decided to deal with it all, but I do some journaling as well when the mood strikes me.**

 **Ajay: Shared experience is the quickest way to bring people together, and life or death scenarios tend to do it quickly. That's why soldiers form strong bonds with one another. Unfortunately, the way our shifts and patrol areas are arranged, we rarely get the opportunity to support one another unless something goes REALLY wrong.**

 **Guest: She's being cynical. Arnold isn't really a narc, even if the others might see him as one. He doesn't throw people under the bus to the administration. Ultimately, having a positive person in the road room is something that helps the guys that forgot why they got into the field in the first place what they were there for. Part II of the story is going to cover a bit more of that as well as the office politics that drives cops crazy. As for IA, only large agencies have IA units. I'd say you probably don't start seeing IA divisions until you have a few hundred officers. Our agency has fewer than 70 full time sworn officers, including the administration. We're not big enough to warrant an Internal Affairs unit.**


	39. Chapter 38

**Pink pistols**

 **April 28, 1827**

"But I _liked_ the pink one," Helga whined as she sat at the high top.

"And all I'm saying is that maybe you should choose your next gun on some set of requirements other than what color the grips are," Arnold said as he sat next to her.

"Hey bucko, it's _my_ gun. That means _my_ rules."

Arnold sighed and looked the Gerald and Phoebe for help. "Why are we talking about pink guns?" Gerald asked.

Arnold opened his mouth to speak but Helga jumped in first. "I want to buy a new off-duty carry gun. I found one I liked, too, but Football Head here wouldn't let me buy it because he didn't like my reasoning."

Arnold rolled his eyes. "You had no reasoning other than 'gun is pink, I like pink, ergo, I like gun.'" He looked at Phoebe. "Help me out here."

Phoebe smiled. "He has a point Helga. That doesn't take into account a lot of other factors. Ergonomics, capacity, sights, accessories, overall size for concealability."

Helga pointed at her accusingly. "Do _not_ take his side, Pheebs."

"I think she should get whatever she wants. If it turns out to be a piece of crap, that's on her to deal with," Gerald said, taking a sip of his beer.

Helga smiled at him. " _Thank_ you. See? Geraldo here gets it. Aesthetics count. I'm the one that has to look at the thing. Besides, nothing would be more satisfying than some crook wetting his pants while staring down the barrel of the girliest gun he's ever seen."

Arnold stared at Gerald. "Thanks for the assist there, bud."

Gerald smiled and gave a mock salute.

Helga turned to Arnold. "What do you want to drink?"

"Just a Yahoo for me."

"You got it. Pheebs?"

"I'm not sure. I'll come with you and check out the specials."

The two girls scampered off to the bar. Gerald watched them go until they were out of ear shot before turning back to Arnold and leaning in close.

"Man, what the hell is going on with you two?" he said in a hushed tone.

Arnold looked genuinely confused. "What do you mean?"

Gerald closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Arnold, do you not see that two of you are acting like you're dating?"

"What? We went to the gun store together today. That's all."

"How much have you seen her since she got home from the hospital?"

"I don't see how that's relevant."

Gerald pointed at him. "Man, I've barely heard from you in four days. But you've spent almost every waking moment with her since then. Are you guys a thing or not?"

"Gerald, we're friends and we're partners. And we're connected by an awful event. We've been helping each other through the hard times."

Gerald leaned back. "Okay hotshot. How'd that bow get in her hair?"

Arnold flinched. "What?"

"You heard me. She's only got one hand and that bow is tied from a ribbon, not a clip on. If she's spending all her time with you, how'd it get tied?"

Arnold blushed and scratched the back of his neck while diverting his eyes away from Gerald. "Uh, well, she might have, um, asked me to do it?" It came out as a question, but Gerald knew it was true.

"You're dating."

"We're not dating."

"You're dating. You know how I can tell? Because you're doing her God damned hair!" Gerald shook his head. "Mmmm mmmm _mmmm_. _Now_ I've seen everything."

"Gerald- "

Gerald cut him off. "Listen man, I know you probably think I'm going to try to talk you out of this, but I'm not."

"You're…not?"

"No man. She and I had words on the way back from the hospital. What about isn't important, but we made our peace with one another." He looked over his shoulder at a smiling Helga that was engaged in a deep conversation with Phoebe. "And I can't deny she's different when she's around you. She's actually… pleasant." He turned back to Arnold. "If you were dating, I'd be happy for you."

Arnold didn't know what to say. He hadn't considered that his relationship with Helga had changed in some way, but he couldn't deny now that it had. "I honestly haven't thought of it that way. I mean, we didn't really discuss it as dating. Full disclosure, we still haven't addressed the taser incident, either."

"Well, you may want to. Because whatever this thing is that you guys have going on looks an awful lot like boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. You guys should probably be on the same page with that. Is it a problem for you if that were the case?"

Arnold stared at the table for a moment before looking back at Gerald. "No, I don't think it would be."

"Then it will probably be an easy conversation." Gerald shrugged. "Just something to think about."

Arnold glanced over at Helga, who was still talking with Phoebe. "Gerald, I'm sure I don't have to tell you that, when Helga's involved, _nothing_ is easy."

Gerald raised his beer. "Amen to that, my man."

Arnold smiled. _I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way._

* * *

"What're you thinkin', Pheebs? Margarita? Gin and tonic? Pitcher of beer all for yourself?" Helga snatched the special menu from the holder. "Ooh, maybe the appetizer sampler."

Phoebe smiled at Helga. She was in rare form tonight. "Helga, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Pheebs." Helga was bouncing lightly in time to the music playing in the bar.

"Are you and Arnold, you know… a thing?"

Helga shook her head. "No, we're just helping each other out with some stuff."

Phoebe would have expected that to have dampened Helga's mood, but it didn't. She regarded Helga curiously. "Do you mind if I ask what kind of stuff?"

Helga frowned slightly. "He's been having a really hard time with the… incident. You know how he is. He wants to save everyone. But he had to kill someone, and it cut a hole right through him." She stole a glance at him. He was having some sort of serious conversation with Gerald. "Out of everyone he could have called, he called _me_ , Phoebe. He was breaking down and he asked for _my_ help. No one has ever done that, except you."

Phoebe nodded. "Are you okay with this? I mean, from the outside it really looks like you two are a couple. Have you ever had a conversation about your admission to him?"

Helga smiled sadly. "No, and I'm not going to bring that up. He doesn't love me like that, and that's okay. For now, he needs a shoulder and I need an extra hand. Although he and I are going to have to discuss his bow tying skills. This thing is uneven." Helga tugged at the bow in her hair.

"He did your hair?" Phoebe asked. _That's interesting_.

"Yeah. It's tough to tie a ribbon into a bow when you've got one hand, Pheebs."

Phoebe regarded her friend for a moment. Helga was smiling and her eyes lacked the tension that normally resided there. Her body language was relaxed, as was her demeanor. Phoebe had seen her like this in the past, but only in private moments, never in public. It was both refreshing and concerning. Phoebe had always been convinced that Helga's softer side was what made her truly beautiful. But she was worried that Helga was setting herself up for disappointment with Arnold if he didn't return her affections.

Helga met Phoebe's eyes and put her good hand on Phoebe's shoulder. "I know you're worried about me, Pheebs. I can see it in your eyes. But really, I'm okay. Hair Boy and I are partners. We'll be there for each other, just like you and I are here for each other. Always."

Phoebe reached up and put her hand over Helga's. "Okay Helga."

"Now, let's order some drinks and an appetizer sampler."

Phoebe smiled. "Ordering!"

 **A/N: As you can see, the reviewers are not the only ones that are starting to think they're dating.**

 **Nep2uune: The short answer is yes, a police officer still has to go through a background check for a private purchase. The long answer is a bit more complicated because gun laws change from state to state. However, the Federal regulations must be followed in each state, and that requires a background check for EVERY purchased firearm. In my state, officers are allowed to add a firearm to their badge instead of their pistol permit with a special form. My agency does NOT allow us to carry on our badge, though, so I still have to get my permit updated with a new purchase. That process takes about two weeks because all permit amendments have to be reviewed by a judge. In my state, each county is allowed to set their own restrictions as well. If you have more questions about gun laws, make an account and I can PM you. If I were to really go into it here, the explanation would be longer than this chapter. Also, for the purposes of this story, the department has four road sergeant positions and they rotate shifts with their squads. She won't be the only one running the show, but she would be responsible for everything that happens on the regular patrol short of a massive incident that requires more resources than she has on shift.**

 **Guest: Initially he would probably be reassigned to light duty like communications or some such. But ultimately he would probably end up losing his position since he would no longer be able to meet the job requirements. And no, Helga can't put that on the patrol car. But I don't think that would stop her from trying. She should get some business cards done up with the Harpy on them.**

 **Timewarp: I honestly don't have too much on Gerald and Phoebe's relationship at this point. I'm going to try to get some more in there. Only about half of that part is completed so far (about 38,000 words). But they do have at least one tender moment that I've already put in there.**


	40. Chapter 39

**Ride of the Valkyrie**

 **April 30, 1759**

"911 to any patrol in the area of State route 12 at Fortress Road respond priority one for a reported car versus pedestrian accident. Pedestrian reported non-responsive."

"Papa Sierra one three three en route," Gerald said. Pedestrians hit by cars were never pretty, but that was an odd location for an accident like that. It was pretty far from any sidewalks or residential neighborhoods. He never saw anyone jogging on that road.

"911 to responding units, be advised, caller is reporting pedestrian was a police officer conducting a traffic stop. Officer down at your last. Say again, officer down."

Gerald's fingers tightened on the wheel. _Not another one._ He pushed his car as fast at it could go, hitting the straightaways at 125 miles per hour. _God damned speed governor won't let me go any faster._ Up ahead, he saw a tangle of cars. A state police patrol car was pushed thirty yards from the roadway, the rear end utterly crushed and the emergency lights still flashing. Another car with it's front end similarly wrecked was next to it, and a man was stumbling around the driver's side. Another car was parked on the side of the road with it's flashers on. A woman was standing next to it with the driver's side door open, her hands covering her mouth as she looked at something beyond the front of her car. Gerald pulled up behind her car.

"One three three, out at last." Gerald jumped out the car and turned on his portable. He ran up to the woman, who was frozen in horror. "Ma'am are you okay?"

His voice seemed to snap her out of her trance. "I-I'm fine. He's down there. He won't move!" She pointed down the shoulder. Gerald could see a figure in a police uniform crumpled on the side of the embankment.

Gerald ran over to him and checked his neck for a pulse. There was none. "One three three, 911. Patient in cardiac arrest. CPR in progress." Normally he wouldn't move a victim of a car accident until someone stabilized the neck and assisted in rolling him properly, but this man was dead anyway without a heartbeat. Gerald rolled him on his back as carefully as he could. He pulled out his knife and started to cut away the uniform shirt and the ballistic vest underneath to expose his chest. He removed the vest and began giving chest compressions. _Come on. Don't you fuckin' die on me._ He could hear sirens in the distance. _They're coming man, just stay with me._ Gerald kept pumping, feeling the ribs pop as he compressed deep enough to force blood through the body. A volunteer firefighter appeared carrying a medic bag. He removed a bag valve mask and started counting Gerald's compressions, delivering breaths during his breaks. Gerald kept going until he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned and saw a paramedic standing behind him.

"We've got this, Deputy. Take a break."

Gerald nodded and moved away while an EMT took his spot. The medic began hooking up a Lifepak unit to the officer. Another volunteer brought over a case containing an automated CPR machine. _Come on. Fucking breathe._

 _Breathe._

* * *

 **1827**

Arnold opened the door to the apartment and threw his keys on the kitchen counter. "I'm just saying that I'd like to read your poetry someday."

"Fat chance, bub. That's private. And I'd better not catch you snooping around my pink book next time you're at my place." Helga's phone started ringing. She looked at the screen. _Why is Gerald calling_ me? "What's up Geraldo," she answered.

Arnold turned to ask her what was going on but stopped when he saw Helga's face. Her face was white, her eyes wide. He could already see tears forming in the corners.

"Helga, what is it? Is it Phoebe?"

Helga waved a hand at him, indicating she wanted silence. "Okay. Thanks Gerald. I appreciate it." Helga hung up the phone. She was in shock and staring off into space.

Arnold walked up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. She finally turned to him, as if realizing he was still in the room. "You remember Bill Kearney?"

Arnold blinked. "The statie?"

Helga nodded slowly. "He's dead."

Arnold stood in total silence. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know Helga even really knew the man, let alone well enough to be so affected by his death. She slowly sat down on a stool at the island. "What happened?" he asked gently.

"Car accident. He pulled a woman over for having a brake light out. His car got rear ended by a drunk while he was walking over for a passenger side approach. His own patrol car hit him, and he got tossed. The medics called it at the scene."

Arnold squeezed her shoulder. "I didn't know you knew him all that well."

"We weren't friends, exactly. But he started about the same time I did. We've backed each other up on a lot of calls. Got in a bunch of fights together. We broke up a huge bar fight once. At first it was just the two of us against a whole room's worth of drunken assholes. He got there just before me. He was staring down a bunch of really angry guys. He told me seeing my car come flying into that parking lot was one of the best sights he's ever seen. We both used a lot of pepper spray that night. He told me afterwards that next time I should play Ride of the Valkyries over the PA when I roll up." Tears were streaking down her cheeks, but she smiled weakly. "It's not every day someone calls me mythological warrior woman without also calling me some sort of awful name to go with it." Her smile faded. "He was one of the good ones, Arnold. Bill visited me in the hospital. He deserved to live. Or at least he deserved a hero's death."

Arnold wrapped her in a hug. "It sounds to me like he _was_ a hero, at least to you."

Helga pressed her face into Arnold's shoulder and sobbed.

* * *

 **May 1, 0822**

Arnold and Helga were in their full-dress uniforms, standing on the side of the road near a Catholic church. Bill had been a first generation American, his parents being off-the-boat Irish immigrants. Police officers, firefighters, EMS workers, and dispatchers lined both sides of the road for over a mile, awaiting the arrival of Bill's remains. It was cloudy and there was a chill in the air, but Helga didn't care. Looking at the hundreds that were in attendance, she felt that, at least on this one day, Bill would get the recognition he deserved. She glanced back toward the church where his wife, son, and daughter waited in black clothes. _I hope they know how much he will be missed._

The enormous line was broken down into companies for the purposes of rendering the salute. Helga heard the company next to them called to attention. He looked down the road and saw the flashing lights of the procession coming their way. She steeled herself. She knew that even though she wouldn't be able to see his remains, or even his casket as it drove by, it would hit her hard. She had only been to one other police funeral, and it was for a cop she didn't know personally. It hadn't mattered. The emotion of the moment, of burying a brother or sister who shares the perils of the job and perished in the line of duty, always cut her deeply. And having known Bill, this would be worse.

She watched the neighboring company render the salute. She knew their turn was next. They were the second to last company they would have to pass before the procession reached the church.

"Company, atten- _tion!_ " Helga snapped her feet together, pushed her good arm down to her side, and stood up straight. She hated drill and ceremonies in the academy. She usually used the paramilitary nonsense it as a way to poke fun at her own administration. But right now, it was the most important thing in the world for her to be precise, to render her respects properly. The procession was led by two state motorcycle units, followed by a patrol car. Behind that was the hearse. The hearse was attended by four state officers on each side.

"Company, pre-sent, _arms!_ " Helga snapped her hand to the brim of her hat. She paid close attention to her arm angle, the tilt of the hand, how it was positioned in relation to the brim. _I'll be damned if I'll give him a sloppy salute. Whether he wanted it or not. Even if it's with the wrong hand._ The hearse passed in near silence, the only noticeable sound being tires slowly creeping on the pavement and dress shoes clacking in perfect step with one another. The procession passed, and the next company came to attention.

"Company, ord-er, _arms!"_ Her hand snapped back to the seam of her pant leg. She kept her eyes forward, her vision already blurry from the tears that gathered there. Once the procession passed the final company, the hearse stopped. The sound that for some reason got her every time she saw a funeral, even on TV, began to float to her. _Amazing Grace on the pipes. Breaks my heart every damn time._ She bit her lip to keep from sobbing. She felt a finger rubbing the back of her good hand. She refused to look down, but she knew Arnold was discreetly trying to tell her it was okay. That she wasn't alone. She listened to the pipes play their sad hymn. A soft rain began to fall, just slightly more than a misting. The honor guard removed the casket and carefully carried it into the church.

"Company, dismissed." Helga released her pose and felt drained, as though she had run a marathon. Her eyes were red, and her cheeks stained. Arnold put an arm around her.

"You alright?" he asked softly.

She nodded and looked up into the sky. "They used to say that if rain fell on a funeral procession, then the departed would go to Heaven." She looked back to the church. "We still have to go in there."

Arnold nodded. "Lead the way, Blue."

She smiled slightly at his use of her nickname. They turned and entered the line for the church. It stretched for almost a mile down the road, two columns deep. Even though they were near the front, it took almost a half hour to finally reach the doors of the church. On either side of the door stood soldiers in dress uniform. _I forgot he was in the Guard,_ Helga thought. They entered the church and finally it was their turn to render their final respects. They walked up slowly to the casket, which was flanked by state honor guard members. Helga and Arnold had discussed their approach beforehand, with Arnold taking his lead from her. They came to attention and Helga began a long, slow salute. She held it for several seconds, her hand wavering, her emotion barely contained, before lowering it slowly. She wanted to snap her hand back down so that she could run out of the room before she burst into tears, but she held herself together. They executed a smart right face and filed out one behind the other. As soon as Helga exited, she released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Arnold put his arm around her shoulders as they walked slowly back to their patrol car in the rain.

* * *

Helga and Arnold sat silently in the car. The final transmission was coming, Arnold knew, and several units had requested to pay their respects after the call. Helga wanted to hear it. She told him it was something she had to do.

"Hillwood 911 to Patrolman 2897."

The silence hung heavy for several seconds.

"Hillwood 911 to Patrolman 2897."

Another silence.

"Hillwood 911 to all units, Patrolman 2897, William Kearney, is out of service. End of watch, April 30, 2016. Rest easy, Patrolman. We have the watch from here."

Helga stared at the radio as units began to pay their respects. They were mostly the standard "rest easys" and "Go with Gods." Arnold was caught by surprise when Helga picked up the mic.

"Papa Sierra three two six. May the Valkyries bear you to Odin's side. 'Til Valhalla, my friend."

She continued to stare the radio after she hung up the microphone. After a few moments, she looked back out the windshield. The sadness had left her eyes, replaced by determination. She shifted into drive.

"Ever been to an Irish wake, Football Head?"

Arnold shook his head. "Can't say I have."

Helga smiled, the first real smile he'd seen since she got the news. "Then you're in for a treat." She pulled onto the road behind a convoy of other patrol cars. "We have a life to celebrate."

 **A/N: I've been to only one service for a line of duty death. It is absolutely the most heart-wrenching thing in the world. I didn't know the man, but it was still emotionally exhausting. Hearing 'Amazing Grace' on the pipes kills me as a result. I'm not sure what wakes are actually like in Ireland, but in the US the term "Irish wake" refers to a celebration of life party instead of the more typical gloomy mourning ceremony that is common here.**

 **Statistically speaking, the most dangerous thing we do is traffic stops. Officers are exposed to traffic and can be injured by other vehicles. This is more common than you might think. In addition, we don't know who is in the vehicle 99% of the time (unless we're doing some sort of targeted enforcement like a drug or warrant detail). You could be pulling over a little old lady, a terrified teenager, or a wanted murderer. There are safety protocols we follow when approaching a car to ensure our safety and the safety of the motorist. Just as one example, when we park our patrol car behind the target vehicle, it is typically placed one car-length behind that vehicle and three feet (1 meter) into the lane with the wheels turned toward the lane of traffic. This allows us to use the car as a buffer from traffic as people will go out around the vehicle. The wheels ensure that if the vehicle is struck from behind, our patrol car will naturally want to travel away from the vehicle we have stopped. If you forget to do that and someone hits your car, especially while you're going for a passenger-side approach to stay out of traffic, you end up like poor Bill.**

 **Nettie: It seems life keeps getting in the way of that conversation.**

 **Ajay: Poor Helga's self-doubt is always holding her back. That just makes it all the more tragic that she has to depend on dense Arnold to get the hint and make her feel good about herself.**

 **Nep2uune: Arnold probably is a little scared, but he's also confused. He's never really had feelings for anyone quite like he's had for Helga.**

 **Blue: I don't have too much Gerald/Phoebe in here. Their relationship is somewhat less tumultuous and I think they make better supporting characters for this story as a result. But there will probably be a little more when I get to the next part.**


	41. Chapter 40

**Lonliness**

 **May 1, 0047**

Arnold pulled up in front of Helga's apartment. They were both exhausted. Even though they didn't drink at the wake, which wasn't really a scheduled wake but rather a party thrown by some of Bill's coworkers, they had been there all day. Bill's parents had attended, and Arnold had been struck by their strength and poise. Though he could see the sadness in their eyes, they asked everyone that knew their son for stories, happy, sad, embarrassing, anything. They laughed, and they cried, and they reveled in the life of their son and the many dozens of cops and soldiers that made the rounds. Helga had spent some time with them, relating her tales, how he gave her one of her many nicknames. They had shared laughs with Helga, and when it was over, both of them came away feeling that they knew the man a little better.

Arnold looked over at his tired compatriot. "Want me to walk you up?"

Helga stared ahead for a moment and didn't answer. She appeared to be deep in thought. She sighed and looked at Arnold. She wore a melancholy expression in her weary eyes. "Arnold, I hate to impose, but do you mind if I crashed at your place tonight? I don't really feel like being alone after today."

Arnold smiled. "Sure. You need help with anything?"

She shook her head. "No, I'll be alright. I'm just going to grab some clothes and my toothbrush. I'll be back in a few minutes." She climbed out and trudged up the steps into the building.

Arnold sat there for a moment with a smile on his lips. His cellphone pinged, and he pulled it out. He had a text from Gerald.

 **Man, where are you?**

Arnold **I was dropping Helga off. She asked to stay the night so she's getting clothes**

There was a delay before the next message. **Have you spoken about the "incident" yet?**

Arnold scowled. **Uh, no. Why?**

Gerald **Do NOT sleep with her**

Arnold was taken aback by the statement. _That was hardly the plan_ _ **…**_ **She's only spending the night. I'll be on the couch**

Gerald **I know you. If she asks for company in the bedroom, you respectfully decline, copy?**

Arnold rolled his eyes. **Copy direct, sir. This is not a big deal**

Gerald **To YOU it's not. You don't know what it means to her**

Arnold sat there for a moment. That was a good point. He wasn't sure if what she had said was heat of the moment or not, but they still needed to talk about it. Arnold was fairly sure he didn't love Helga, but he still hadn't worked out if his affection for her transcended "friend" or "partner." He suspected he was drifting in that direction. But he still owed it to her to work out his feelings before having that conversation. _And I haven't really thought about it enough._ He typed out a response to Gerald. **Point taken. I'll behave**

Gerald **You'd better. Otherwise Phoebe will destroy you. She's very wee but dangerous when angered**

Arnold chuckled. The door opened, and Helga got back in. She had already changed into sweats. Her hair was down and spilled over her shoulders. He rarely saw it down. She tossed a backpack in the back seat.

"Good to go?"

"You bet, Hair Boy. Let's ride." She seemed to be re-energized. Arnold, for his part, was still exhausted.

He drove them back to his apartment. He grabbed her backpack only to have her snatch it from his hands.

"I can manage, Arnoldo." She stuck her tongue out at him and made her way to the building.

 _This woman might actually be the death of me_ , he thought as he shook his head.

They entered his apartment and Helga walked over to the couch. She began rearranging the pillows and grabbed the blanket that was hanging over the back.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Arnold asked.

"Umm, making my bed? Does it look like I'm doing something else? Because I'm not really sure this can be misconstrued."

Arnold shook his head as he grabbed her backpack from her.

"Hey- "she began to protest but he cut her off.

"The guest sleeps in the bed. I'm sleeping on the couch. Nonnegotiable." He tossed the backpack through the open bedroom door.

She crossed her good arm over her injured one. "How do you know I didn't have anything delicate in that bag?"

He shrugged. "I don't."

She stalked over to him with her arms still crossed. "And what if you had damaged my goods, sir?"

Arnold smirked mischievously. He leaned forward until they were almost nose to nose. "My dear Helga, you're already damaged goods, just like me."

Her eyes widened. She dropped her good arm and looked away. "Fair enough…"

Arnold's smirk faded. He felt like maybe he crossed a line. "Helga, I'm sorry. I was just joking."

Her blue eyes met his gaze. They sparkled in a smile. "Sometimes you're too easy, Shortman."

Arnold sighed. _I thought I had one up on her for once._ "You're a devious one."

She poked him in the chest. "And don't forget it, paste for brains. You can't out-smart Helga G. Pataki, the only cop in the office to ever use 'defenestration' in a police report."

Arnold groaned. "Okay, Miss Wordsmith Extraordinaire. I'm going to change, then you can claim your bed."

"Chop chop, chuckles. A girl needs her beauty sleep."

"You more than most," he shot back over his shoulder.

She gave him a look of feigned hurt. "You cut me to the quick, good sir."

Arnold changed into red plaid pajama pants and plain black t-shirt before going back into the living room. Helga walked out of the bathroom with a toothbrush in her mouth, still wearing her sweatpants, but she had removed her sweatshirt and was wearing a pink tank top. Arnold noticed she wasn't wearing a bra and quickly averted his eyes, already feeling uncomfortable. _Why did Gerald have to put inappropriate thoughts in my head? It must be perky-COLD. Cold in here. Fuck._

Helga regarded him curiously, cocking her head slightly to one side. She stepped back into the bathroom to spit and rinse, before returning. "Something on your mind there, Arnoldo?"

"What? No, nothing. Hey, I'm pretty beat. How about we call it a night?" _Just go in the other room, please. Or, put on another shirt._

"Oookay. Well, goodnight then, I guess."

She walked past him into the bedroom and climbed in his bed. He let out a breath. _Potential disaster averted,_ he thought. He adjusted the pillows on the couch and unfurled the blanket. He turned out the light and laid on the couch. He stared at the ceiling and couldn't close his eyes. _She really is beautiful,_ he thought. _Even with that unibrow growing back in, she's striking._ He groaned softly. _I'm so close to getting murdered by a tiny Asian woman._

He closed his eyes and tried to put it all out of his mind. He wasn't sure how long he had been out when he heard what sounded like… crying? He opened his eyes slowly and strained his ears. It definitely sounded like someone crying softly. He stood up and walked over to the closed bedroom door and listened. _Helga's crying._

He knocked gently on the door. "Helga, you alright?"

"I'm fine, Football Head." She was not fine. He could tell.

"Can I come in?"

"It's your house. Do what you want."

Arnold opened the door and saw Helga sitting up in bed, her knees pulled to her chest. The floor was covered in tissues. He navigated the mine field of Kleenex and sat down on the bed. He put a hand on her knee.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't have many friends Arnold. Barely anyone can even stand me. Bill wasn't my friend, but he got me. He never got mad at me, never took it personally when I busted his ass. He always had my back. And now he's gone. I just… I don't know. I don't even know what I'm saying."

Arnold climbed into the bed next to her. He put his arm around her and pulled her in to his chest.

"You must think I'm crazy," she said.

Arnold shook his head. "No, I _know_ you're crazy."

She lifted her head and gave him a hurt look. He laughed softly. "Relax Blue, I wouldn't have you any other way. If you weren't just a little bit crazy, you wouldn't be Helga G. Pataki." She snorted a small laugh as he wiped her tears with his thumb. "You don't make friends easily. But you've got a best friend that loves you to death. You've got a partner that will never leave you behind. And even Gerald has begrudgingly accepted that you're not half bad, which is saying something for him."

She smiled slightly. "Geraldo's alright. But if he hurts Phoebe, he will _not_ survive the experience."

Arnold laughed. "Funny, I have a feeling she says the same thing about me hurting you."

Helga sighed. "Arnold, we have to talk about the whole taser thing."

Arnold nodded. "We do, but not right now. Right now, we both need to sleep. Especially you."

She squinted at him. "Why especially me? Is this another beauty sleep crack? Because if it is-"

He held his hands up in surrender. "I promise, nothing like that. I know when I can make a joke and when I can't. No, you're still recovering from, you know, getting _shot_ and losing a lot of blood. We're really not that far removed from your injury and you need to heal."

Her eyes relaxed. "I'll let it slide this time then, Shortman. But watch yourself." She dug her head back into his shoulder. "Arnold?"

"Yes, Helga?"

"I hate to ask you this, but… will you stay here until I fall asleep? I just… can't be alone tonight. I've slept alone my entire life and tonight I just don't want to do it again." Her voice was muffled by his shirt.

 _This is a trap. She and Phoebe planned this._ "Only until you fall asleep. I don't want to give the impression of impropriety. I have an image of my own to protect, you know."

He felt Helga laugh into his body. "Goody two-shoes."

"Harpy."

"Thank you, Arnold."

He stayed there with her, rocking her gently, until she finally nodded off. He carefully laid her back on the pillows and pulled the blanket up over her. He stroked her hair gently as he watched her rhythmic breathing. He drank in the features of her face; the hairs threatening to reconnect her eyebrows, her pale skin, pink lips, the blond hair framing her surprisingly delicate features. _She truly is a unique beauty,_ he mused. He leaned over gently kissed her forehead. "Sweet dreams," he whispered, before leaving for his couch.

 **A/N: Yali: Glad that it worked. I was a little worried it wouldn't come through well.**

 **Timewarp: My condolences. Military funerals are even harder for me, to be honest. Taps, rifle salutes, the flag being handed to the family. My grandfather's funeral crushed me.**

 **Nettie: I really considered having Helga get drunk, but I decided she should be terrified of becoming her mother if she touched the stuff to drown her sorrows. And Arnold would totally get hammered with her. I imagine him being something of a sympathetic drinker when it comes to her.**

 **Nep2uune: Yes, they really do the radio call. I thankfully haven't heard a last call for a death yet, only retirements. The black stripes are usually worn for a week or two on our badges. We don't display a stripe on our cars, but I think we should.**

 **Guest: I had to look it up, but yes, the last call was accurate.**

 **SatanSpeaks: That's high praise from the lord of darkness. I appreciate it.**

 **Lilalex: I may have to add NSFW warnings.**


	42. Chapter 41

**Ham & Cheese**

 **May 2, 0943**

Helga's eyes opened slowly to light coming through the windows. She rubbed her eyes with her good hand, still feeling exhausted. She got out of bed and shuffled over to the door. She opened it slowly to see if Arnold was still on the couch, but he was already up. Helga could hear him in the kitchen. She yawned and made her way to the kitchen doorway. Arnold was pulling out a pan for the stove, but he must have heard her.

"Good morning sunsh- "he said as he turned. When he saw her he snorted a laugh. "I'm sorry Blue, but your hair is a disaster right now."

Helga shrugged. "Ask me how many fucks I give. What's for breakfast?"

"Ham and cheese omelet sound good?"

"Is the pope Catholic?"

Arnold removed eggs and cheese from the fridge and began preparing the food.

Helga shifted uncomfortably. "I'm… sorry about last night."

"For what?"

"For imposing on you. Stealing your bed. Keeping you up all night. Making you rock me to sleep."

"It's fine. I'm not bothered by it."

"That's because you're not bothered by helping _anyone._ "

"Yeah, but especially you."

Helga smiled, but it lasted only a moment. "Arnold, about what I said, with that whole taser thing."

Arnold frowned. He knew this conversation was coming, but he was hoping to wait until at least after breakfast. "I know it wasn't the heat of the moment, Helga."

She scowled. "Then why haven't you said anything about it?"

"Because I honestly didn't know how I felt about _you_. And I didn't want to give you an answer until I had at least thought about it. You were my FTO, my partner, and my friend. But you're also one of the hardest people on the planet to read." He turned and offered her a piece of cheese, which she accepted. "And don't act like that part at least isn't on purpose. We both know you armor yourself with anger and sarcasm."

Helga sighed. "I guess that's fair. But have you, y'know, thought about it?" She looked at him with hopeful eyes.

He nodded. He turned to face her. "I have. A lot." _God, those eyes kill me,_ he thought. "Helga, I'm honestly not sure if I love you." Her face fell, and she looked down. He walked over to her and lifted her chin. "Look at me, please." She did as he asked. There was fear in her eyes. _She thinks I'm going to hurt her. I really hope I don't._ "I don't know if I love you, but you're one of the most important people in my life right now. I know you don't date but, if you're willing to try it out, I would like to take you to dinner one night. Just you and me. See how it goes. Maybe if we both just acknowledge that what's happened the past few weeks is basically us dating anyway, I can sort out my feelings faster."

Her eyes widened. "Did… you really just ask me out on a date?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

She grinned widely, before tamping it down to a smirk, with obvious effort. "Okay. I _guess_ I can relax my 'no dating' rule for you." She tapped his nose with her index finger. "But nothing on the cheap, you got it?"

Arnold laughed. "Whatever you say Helga."

"Hey Football Head?" she said earnestly.

Arnold cocked his head to the side. "Yes?"

"You're burning breakfast."

Arnold turned and saw that his omelet was indeed being ruined. "Oh, crap." He dashed over and removed the pan from the stove while Helga laughed at him.

"You're still an easy mark, Shortman," she giggled.

He smiled to himself but made sure she couldn't see. _What have I gotten myself into?_

* * *

The second attempt was more successful, and they finished breakfast. After cleaning up and showering, Arnold found Helga putting her shoes on.

"Going somewhere?" he asked.

"Well, you have your psych evaluation today, so I thought I'd get out of your hair for a bit. The last thing you need is my neurotic self getting you worked up before you're cleared for work."

"I appreciate the sentiment, but if anything, you've kept me from losing my mind these past two weeks."

Helga huffed. "Man, if you're holding on to _me_ for emotional stability, you're in for a rough ride."

Arnold looked at her. "Hey, about what you said last night…"

She stopped fiddling with her shoes. "What part?"

"About having slept alone your entire life. Is that true? You've never spent a night with a man?"

Helga diverted her attention back to her shoes. "Dating or not, that's none of your business. And I'm _not_ going to talk about it right now." She kept trying to pull her shoe on with one hand but couldn't manage it. She finally pulled it off and threw it angrily at the floor. She stared at the shoe as if it had bitten her.

Arnold moved over toward the couch and picked up the shoe. He untied the laces. "What do you think you're doing?" She asked. She glared at him.

"I'm helping you." He reached out to put the shoe on her foot as she crossed her good arm over her sling and looked away with a snort.

"I don't need your pity, Arnoldo."

"It's not pity, Helga. My _partner_ needs help and I'm helping her. I'm pretty sure she'd do the same for me." He looked up at her. Even though she had turned her face away from him, he could see a blue eye looking down at him. He winked. She squeaked out a laugh before regaining her composure.

"You're impossible, Football Head."

He finished tying her laces. "Good. Then we're even."

 **A/N: Since Nettie was going to have a heart attack, I'll give you this one too.**


	43. Chapter 42

**Back in the Saddle**

 **May 3, 1430**

It was strange what a few weeks away from work could do. Walking back in to the office, it felt both familiar and foreign. How many strange calls had he missed? What war stories were being swapped in the road room? What gossip was floating around in the motor pool? Arnold wondered what people were going to be saying about him, and Helga, and Wittenburg. Gerald generally didn't share the gossip he heard around the office, but Arnold knew that Gerald, the childhood keeper of tales and legends, probably catalogued and remembered everything he heard.

Arnold entered the administration hallway. Lieutenant Simmons poked his head out of his office. He saw Arnold and smiled broadly. "Deputy Shortman!" He walked out and extended a hand to Arnold. "So happy to see one of my special deputies."

Arnold smiled and shook his hand. "Glad to be back Eltee."

"Arnold, the Captain wanted me to send you to see him when you came in. He should be in his office."

A lump formed in Arnold's throat. He tried to force it down by swallowing. "Uh, thanks. I'll go see him now."

Simmons patted his shoulder and gave him a friendly smile. _I don't know what this place would do without that man,_ Arnold thought as he walked down the hallway. He nervously approached the door and knocked.

"Come in," Wartz said.

Arnold cracked the door and stuck his head in. "Eltee said you wanted to see me, sir?"

"Ah yes, Deputy Shortman, come in, come in. Have a seat please."

Arnold came in at sat uncomfortably in front of the Captain's desk. _I always feel like I'm on trial when I'm in front of this desk._

"How are you feeling, Deputy? Do you feel like you're ready to return to work?"

"Well, my psych eval went fine so I believe so."

Wartz waved a hand dismissively. "Yes, yes. I read Dr. Bliss's report. But you know yourself. Are you ready to return to work? There is no wrong answer here, Deputy. If you feel you need more time, we can find a way to accommodate you."

Arnold looked down at his hands which were clasped in front of him. "I think I need to get back on the horse, sir. The longer I stay away, the harder it will be to come back. But I've been doing okay. I think I'm going to have some more visits with Dr. Bliss to work things out, but I'm doing alright. I've had a lot of support, especially from Deputy Pataki."

Wartz raised an eyebrow. "Deputy Pataki has been supporting you?"

"Yes sir. We've been helping each other through this process. It's been… hard on both of us."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that. Although I'm sure you can imagine my skepticism about Deputy Pataki supporting anyone. Regardless, we're glad you're back and if you end up needing anything, please let us know. The Sheriff wants to schedule an award ceremony for the three of you at some point in the future, when Pataki and Wittenburg have healed up a bit more."

Arnold blanched. He hadn't really thought of that. "Um, sir, I'm not sure I'm really comfortable with that. And I can pretty much guarantee you that Deputy Pataki won't want to attend."

"Fine, fine. A discussion for another day. Have a safe shift today, Deputy."

Arnold felt that was a dismissal and stood up to leave. "Thank you, sir."

He had nearly left the room when Wartz called out to him again. "Deputy Shortman?"

Arnold turned back around. "Yes sir?"

"For the record, I was wrong about you. You did your duty in the worst of circumstances. I've never been happier to have been wrong."

Arnold stood in shock for a moment before stammering a reply. "Th-thank you sir. I appreciate it."

Wartz nodded and returned his attention to his computer. Arnold closed the door and walked back down the hall to the road room. He smiled to himself. _Not a bad start to the day._

 **Note: The 1SG that had initially told me I couldn't do the job said something similar to me about a year after I was hired.**

 **Nep2uune & Guest: You misunderstand. Helga has never spent the whole night with a man, as in, slept and woken up next to him. She is NOT a virgin. That will be explored a bit in the future (Part II). Her words are carefully chosen in that passage. She says she's always slept alone, not that she's never slept with anyone. That's an important distinction. Helga isn't soft so much as she was emotionally vulnerable and fragile. Anyone other than Arnold may have taken advantage of that. She'll harden up again. She wouldn't be Helga if she just became a huge softy. That said, I would like to think that she'll _eventually_ let Arnold in, if no one else.**

 **Kryten: It was more like 45 minutes ;)** **  
The story is done. My editor has been MIA so I've just been releasing chapters whenever I feel like it. There are 10 chapters left in this story arc. And yes, he is absolutely in denial.**

 **Nettie: You're welcome :D**

 **Timewarp: Family and friends are essential for getting through any difficult period. Helga and Arnold are definitely rotating that role with one another, and that shared experience continues to bring them even closer together.**


	44. Chapter 43

**Fashion Crisis**

 **May 3, 1857**

Helga had to admit that she felt awkward spending time with Gerald and Phoebe without Arnold around. They were a couple that had little problem with public displays of affection, at least small ones. Pecks on the cheek, holding hands, putting their arms around one another. _I could never do that, even if Arnold and I were a real couple. I'd be laughed out of town. I'd look weak._ She sighed softly to herself. _Sometimes I wish I could let myself be just a little weak._

"So, Pataki, you miss him yet?"

Gerald's question snapped her out of her private thoughts. "Huh? What?"

Gerald smirked at her. "I'm guessing that's a yes."

Helga scowled at him. "I can survive a week without him," she said.

"I never said you couldn't _survive_ without him." Gerald smiled warmly at her, which caught her off guard. She still wasn't sure how to take him after their words in the car, but his expression looked genuine, inviting, friendly. Were they… friends now? Could she even _be_ friends with Gerald? Could she trust him?

No, probably not. He was the collector of all gossip around the office. The teller of tales both factual and tall. She couldn't let him in. At least, not yet. "Well I'm doing just fine, thank you," she huffed while leaning back in her chair. She frowned and furrowed her brow.

Gerald sighed and shook his head. He looked…disappointed maybe? Helga relaxed her face. _Maybe… maybe he's not so bad. He's trying, which is more than I can say to myself._ She gave him a sheepish look. "Sorry. This whole having people who aren't named Phoebe that care about me thing is still kinda… new."

Gerald's smiled returned. "Don't worry about it. So…" he wiggled his eyebrows at her. "When's the big date?"

Helga's mouth dropped open. "He told you about that?"

Phoebe interrupted. "Helga, he's Arnold's best friend. And I'm yours. It's the kind of things people share with their best friends. _You_ told _me,_ if you remember."

"Fair, I guess. Sunday night. It's his next day off."

"Where are you guys going?" Phoebe asked.

Helga sat up and looked around uncomfortably. "Well, um, we're going to a… place. You know, in Hillwood. For, uh, food, and such."

Gerald crossed his arms and gave her a mischievous grin. "Food and such huh? And does the 'food and such' place have a name?" Helga looked away toward the bar and mumbled. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear that."

"Chez Paris!" she blurted, much louder than she had intended. She looked around, embarrassed, hoping now one else heard her.

Phoebe clapped her hands in front of her. "Oh, that's such a romantic place. And fancy. What are you wearing?"

"Oh, uh, I guess… I haven't really thought about that." Helga's face fell. _Fancy? I don't own anything fancy. Oh God, what am I gonna wear?!_

Gerald excused himself to go get another drink. Once he was far enough away, Helga turned to Phoebe in a panic. "Phoebe, I have no idea what to wear! I don't have any nice clothes!"

Phoebe laughed. "Helga, that's hardly something to panic over. We can go shopping when I get out of work tomorrow."

Helga was still apprehensive. "Phoebe," she said in a small voice.

Phoebe's smile faded. "What's wrong?"

"I'm scared Phoebe. Do you know how long it's been since I went out on an actual date?"

Phoebe thought for a moment. "Probably five years. But you and Arnold already have a very easy relationship. Why is this different?"

Helga sighed. "Because now it's real, Pheebs. Before I was living out a fantasy of some sort. The companionship without the pressure of being a girlfriend. But now…" she looked back toward the door of the bar. _I could just run away from all of this. The door isn't that far away._ "What if he doesn't like me when the setting is all romantic and stuff?"

Phoebe reached over and put her hand on Helga's. "Helga, the two of you have a strong bond. You've gone through life and death situations together. You've actually shown him the real you, which I know is really difficult for you. And he still likes you enough to ask you on a date."

Helga remained focused on the escape route. "He deserves better than me, Phoebe."

Phoebe frowned a pointed a finger at her. The movement caught Helga's attention and she turned back to her friend. She was taken aback by the smaller woman's intensity. _She's_ pissed _,_ Helga thought.

"Don't you _dare_ start that nonsense. I'm not letting you talk yourself out of this. It's happening, and I'm making sure you go. Understood?"

"Uh, I…. Yes, Phoebe. Whatever you say." Helga was stunned. Phoebe never spoke to her like this. "Um, going?" she said with a weak smile and a thumbs-up.

Phoebe smiled. "Good. We'll meet up tomorrow when I get out of work and we'll go shopping, okay?"

Helga took a deep breath and let it out, clearly defeated by the diminutive Phoebe's assertiveness. _The whole world has flipped upside down in the past month_. "Okay."

* * *

 **2042**

Helga sat on her couch, scribbling away in her pink book. She had been writing incessantly since Arnold had called her that night. Thoughts and feelings had been swirling around in her head, and without an outlet they would drive her crazy. She was deeply involved in her latest poem when her phone pinged, startling her. She picked it up. It was a text from Arnold. It surprised her how, after everything that had happened between them, her heart still beat faster when she received a message from him. She opened the message. There was a photo of two subjects in handcuffs being patted down by Sid. In the background was the movie theater that had been the scene of their big fight call.

 **It's not the same without you ; )**

Helga smiled. _Why do I think it's cute that he's remembering us being in a huge fight with a bunch of gang members? I'm a weirdo._

She texted back. **You're such a loser. Letting Sid do all the work?**

Arnold **He gets mad when I try to do anything. I think he's still upset about getting stuck with the kid during the ghost call**

Helga **Tell him I said I'll beat both your asses if you don't start helping**

Arnold **Roger that Sarge : D**

Helga actually allowed herself a laugh. **Go help your TEMPORARY partner before he hurts himself**

Arnold **Okay. Have a good night**

Helga sighed. She missed that football headed dope already. **Stay safe, Hair Boy**

Arnold **I promise, Blue**

 **A/N: I know, last chapter was boring and mostly just connective tissue for the narrative. Hopefully this one is a little more interesting.**


	45. Chapter 44

**The Shopping Experience**

 **May 4, 1748**

Helga remembered why she hated shopping. It was boring, and she hated almost everything she tried on. She didn't know how Phoebe managed to put up with her being such a grump all the time. Surprisingly, Phoebe didn't even seem to be phased by Helga's detachment. She was having a good time all on her own. _She's probably on the top of the list of people I don't deserve,_ Helga thought.

"What about this, Helga?" Phoebe held up a dress that to, Helga's tastes, could only be described as an atrocity. Helga sighed heavily. Phoebe looked back at her. "You're not having fun?"

"Oh sure. This is fun. No wait, the other thing. Tedious."

Phoebe smiled at her. "We'll find something. Clothes shopping is a process."

"I still don't know why I can't wear my Tru Spec cargo pants," Helga whined.

"Because you're going out to dinner, not to drug interdiction training," Phoebe admonished lightly.

"I'm just saying, they're khaki and I can carry a first aid kit in the pocket. Classy _and_ functional. Besides, they've got that elastic waistband, so I can gorge myself and they'll still fit." She picked at her fingernails. "I mean, they don't call them the 24/7 series for no reason, right?"

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "You're going to dress like a lady and you're going to like it. And you'll be beautiful."

Helga snorted. "Fat chance of that, sister. Ain't nothing beautiful about little ol' me."

Phoebe looked over her shoulder reproachingly. "Stop it. It's just a matter of finding something that fits your figure right. And we'll do your hair, and with a little makeup- "

Helga put her hands up. "Whoa there, Pheebs. Let's focus on the clothes right now. We can save all that other crazy shit for later." Helga started looking through the racks. The majority of the clothes didn't fit her sense of style, which was admittedly either sweats and hoodies, or cargoes and flannels. She didn't know what she was going to find that screamed 'Helga' while looking feminine.

She had finished the rack in front of her and was ready to tell Phoebe they should just go get something to eat at the food court when she saw something that caught her eye. She walked over to the rack and removed a black pencil skirt. She contemplated it, losing herself in her imagination. _Could this work? I kinda like it. Maybe with a black blouse. I could deal with black._

"Oh Helga, that would be lovely!" Phoebe said, snapping Helga out of her internal dialogue.

"You think? I mean, I kinda like it." She held it up higher and regarded it carefully. _Yeah, I could make this work._ "What should I wear with it?"

Phoebe dragged Helga over to the blouses and found a simple black short sleeved silk blouse with a deep V front. Helga wasn't sure how she felt about the neckline, but Phoebe assured her it would be fine. _It's not like I have a ton to show off up top anyway,_ Helga mused.

"Now, we need something for you to wear around it to cinch the waist. Like a ribbon belt," Phoebe said.

They started look through the accessories, but nothing was really doing it for Helga. Until she reached the last rack. A grin spread across Helga's lips. _Perfect._ She picked it up and held it up for Phoebe. "Hey Pheebs, how about this?"

Phoebe nearly squealed in delight. "That's it!"

"Great. Now we can get out of here, right?"

Phoebe shook her head. "You need shoes!"

"Ugh!" Helga screeched as she threw her hands up in defeat. _Sometimes I hate being a girl._

* * *

 **2109**

Two weeks was all it took for Arnold to forget the grind of a C line shift. The first few hours had been call after call of property damage accidents, domestics, petit larcenies, and all manner of other nonsense. None of it was particularly serious, but it all took time and he had to admit, he was already out of practice. Police work is a career of repetition, and even a brief break caused him to forget little things. But he was also happy to be back at work. Mostly. He sighed and pulled out his phone. He pulled up the photo of the four friends at the bar the night he and Gerald finished field training. He gazed longingly at Helga's dreamy expression. _I can't deny I miss her already,_ he thought.

A notification popped over the photo. It was a text from Helga. _Speak of the devil._

Helga **May the Fourth be with you, Star Wars nerd : P**

Arnold chuckled to himself. **Aww, you remembered!**

Helga **Don't read too much into it.**

Arnold **You don't even like Star Wars, so I think you're the bigger dork here.**

Helga **Watch it, football head. The arm comes out the sling tomorrow. Once Betsy and the Five Avengers are reunited, you're in trouble.**

Arnold **Is it appropriate for my future supervisor to threaten me with physical violence?**

Helga **If being a sergeant means I can't threaten you, I'm turning it down. Just make sure you're not late Sunday.**

Arnold smiled. He was excited for their date, but also a little nervous. **I wouldn't dream of it.**

Helga **Alright, get back to work. No slackin' off on shift, bucko.**

Arnold **Whatever you say, Helga.** He put the phone in the center console and looked out the window into the night around him. He was in the North zone tonight, and Wednesday nights were not exactly busy in that part of the county. Traffic was sparse, and he had little to do but sit and think. He picked the phone up again. **I miss you**

He stared at the screen. He saw the ellipses appear that indicated Helga was typing a response. Then they disappeared. Then they reappeared again. He smirked. He knew she was typing and deleting her responses because nothing seemed quite right. He had done the same thing many times.

The response finally came. It actually had no text and was just a photo. It showed Han Solo standing in the carbonite chamber. Superimposed over the photo were the words 'I know.' Arnold laughed. _Well played, Pataki. Well played._

 **A/N: This chapter required extensive women's fashion assistance to complete, because I know exactly nothing about women's clothing. Thanks, Tiffster. This will probably be the last one for a few days. Work has been busy. Paperwork will take precedence.**

 **Guest: Their histories will be expanded upon in part II. The fantasy was that she and Arnold were spending all of their time together as though they were dating, but since they actually weren't, Helga didn't feel the pressure she does now that it's official. Helga is 26 at this point in the story. Arnold is 25. I have not discussed their educational histories but there will be some of that in part II as well.**

 **Nep2une: I have to admit that I identify with Helga here. I freak out about dates. Hell, I freak out about asking a girl out in the first place. I've driving 80 miles per hour into on-coming traffic chasing a wrong way driver and it didn't bother me. Put me in a situation to ask a woman on a date and I not only won't do it, I'll nearly have a panic attack about it. She gets herself all worked up just like I would.**

 **Timewarp: I have bigger plans for Cecile.**

 **Ajay: As always, I appreciate your kindness. No, the comment was not a meaningless throwaway. I have a backstory in mind for Helga to explain her reluctance (as if the complete lack of love in her childhood isn't explanation enough). You will get that backstory in part II.**

 **Nettie: Well you're in luck, because here's some more!**


	46. Chapter 45

**Date Night**

 **May 8, 1425**

Helga sat with her arms crossed, her right arm finally freed from its sling. "No," she said curtly.

Phoebe sighed. "Helga, it's just a little eye makeup. It's not the end of the world."

Helga huffed. "I'm not gonna be some dolled-up hussy."

"You won't be a hussy. You don't have to wear much. Just a little bit, to bring out your eyes."

 _He already knows what my eyes look like. That's why he calls me Blue,_ she thought, her pulse quickening slightly. _But if he already likes my eyes, would it hurt to wear a little bit?_ "Fine. But if I end up looking like a hooker, it's coming off, toot sweet. Ya got me?"

Phoebe smiled and gave her a mock salute. "Whatever you say, boss. We have to discuss your hair…"

Helga kept her arms crossed. _This is going to be so embarrassing_ , she thought.

* * *

 **1626**

"Man, would you calm down?" Gerald was getting tired of seeing Arnold pace around the apartment. "What the hell is wrong with you? You guys spent almost two straight weeks together like it was no big deal."

Arnold was nervous. Dreadfully nervous. He had felt alright about everything at first, but all of a sudden it felt real. It wasn't the same. Before it was two friends, partners even, helping each other through a hard time. A romantic date was different. Somehow. For some reason. He couldn't explain it, even to himself. "I don't know Gerald. It's just… different."

"Well you need to chill out. Because if you're all amped up, Helga's going to throw up those walls you keep talking about, and neither of you are going to get anywhere." Gerald's phone dinged. "If it's any consolation, Phoebe says Helga is also on the edge of a meltdown."

Arnold stopped and glared at him. "Yeah, that helps. Thanks for coming, Gerald."

Gerald grinned at him. "She's rubbing off on you, my man. That was some Grade A sarcasm right there." His phone dinged again. "Oh, this time it's a picture…" Gerald's eyes grew wide. "Hot damn. That girl cleans up good."

Arnold started walking toward him, but Gerald hid the phone. "Oh no, you have to wait for the surprise." He smiled at Arnold. "And it's going to be quite a surprise, I assure you." He looked back down at the phone. "I didn't know necklines could go that low."

Arnold held his face in his hand. "Gerald…"

Gerald laughed. "I'm just kiddin' buddy. Or am I?" Being struck in the face by Arnold's couch pillows didn't lessen his laughter.

 **1702**

Arnold was sitting in his car in front of Helga's apartment. His knee bounced nervously, and he checked his watch for the twelfth time that minute. _Where is she? She should have been out two minutes ago._ He stepped out the car and paced nervously. _Relax. She'll be out any minute. It's just dinner._ He heard the front door open and he turned with a smile on his face. A smile that soon disappeared as his jaw hung open.

Helga stood at the top of the stairs wearing the black pencil skirt which ended just below her knee. Her black silk blouse plunged in a 'V', showing just a little cleavage. The blouse was wrapped with a pink ribbon belt tied in bow at her waist and she wore black flats. Her hair spilled in curls down both sides of her face and she wore understated eye makeup that brought out the blue. Her pink lipstick matched the color rising in her cheeks. She held a pink clutch purse in her left hand while her right was nervously holding her left elbow. She looked away from Arnold, glancing everywhere but at him.

"It's… it's too much, right?" she asked nervously. "I told Phoebe to go easy on the eye makeup. I feel like a tramp…" She finally looked down at Arnold. She squinted. "What's your malfunction, Football Head."

Arnold was finally snapped out of his trance. "I… you look beautiful."

Helga looked down at the steps, her cheeks progressing past pink and becoming red. "Can it, Shortman." She finally raised her eyes again. "You look rather handsome yourself."

"I, uh, thank you." He scratched the back of his neck. "Oh, uh, the door." He ran around to Helga's side of the car and opened the door for her.

Helga rolled her eyes. "Easy there, Don Juan. Just because I'm wearing a skirt doesn't mean I can't open my own doors."

Arnold smiled at her. "Whatever you say, Helga."

"Damn straight, bucko. Now, what's for dinner? I'm starving."

Phoebe watched from the doorway as Helga and Arnold drove off to the restaurant. She clasped her hands in front of her and smiled broadly. _You got this, Helga,_ she thought.

* * *

 **1947**

"I didn't know!" Helga protested. She crossed her arms as they walked down the street and frowned.

Arnold laughed. "You could have just _asked_ , you know."

"Seriously Football Head, who in their right mind would even guess calf's brains and eggs was a thing people _eat_? Criminy, I didn't think the French were that nasty."

"Well at least you got some cardio out of it. You made it to the bathroom in record time."

Helga blushed and smacked him with her purse. "We don't need to mention that. _Ever._ "

"Do you want me to bring you home then?" He frowned and looked down at the sidewalk. He didn't really want to bring her home. Despite the food fiasco, they had been having a great time together.

Helga looked at him, then down the street. "It's still early. How about we go in that bar down there and grab a drink?" She didn't wait for a response and hooked her arm in his, practically dragging him along.

Arnold laughed as they went in the front door. "Whatever you say, Helga."

It was a Sunday and the bar crowd was light. They sat down at the bar itself. "Soda for you, milady?" Arnold asked.

"Ugh. Yes, but I'm seriously thinking I should have something with the highest alcohol concentration available to rinse that calf brain taste out of my mouth."

Arnold placed the order and excused himself to go to the bathroom. The bartender brought out the drinks and Helga began sipping hers.

"Pardon me, is this seat taken?"

Helga turned to her side and saw two men that appeared to be in their late 20s standing next to her. "That one is, but the next two aren't." She motioned to the next two seats beyond Arnold's.

The two men sat down as Arnold returned. Arnold smiled and nodded a hello to the new comers. The one closest to Arnold smiled in return. "Good evening sir. How are you both?" The man spoke with a slight accent that Helga couldn't place.

Helga raised an eyebrow. _Is this chuckle head actually going to make small talk with us? How droll. I'm sure Football Head will be polite._

"We're well. And you?" Arnold replied. _Called it,_ Helga thought.

The man's smiled widened. "Wonderful, thank you. We're truck drivers from out of town. We're looking for a good place for a drink. How is this place?"

 _This guy is very strange._ Helga regarded him carefully. They didn't look like any truck drivers she was familiar with. They were both trim and in decent shape, light brown skin, well groomed facial hair, and dressed in ironed button-down shirts with pressed khakis. Alarm bells were sounding in her head. _Something isn't right here._

"Uh, well, I've actually never been here before. We just finished a nice dinner and didn't feel like going home so we just stopped- ow!" Helga kicked Arnold in the shin. He bent down to rub his leg and cast a questioning glance at Helga.

She leaned in close. "There's something off with these two. Don't trust them," she whispered.

Arnold looked at her a moment, but he could see the serious expression on her face and nodded.

"So, what brings you two to the city?"

The closer man gestured dismissively with his hand. "We drove in a load of produce, but the store was closed when we got here. So, we'll have to wait until tomorrow to off load it."

Arnold cast Helga a sidelong glance. _He sees it now._

The man continued. "So, what do you two do for a living?"

Arnold opened his mouth to reply but Helga cut him off. "We're cops."

The man's smile wavered for a moment. His companion snorted and stood up. He walked down to the other end of the bar and sat by the wait station. He had been staring at the female wait staff since he came in.

"Police officers? Really? You don't look like officers." The man tried to maintain his cheerful demeanor.

"Well believe it, bucko."

The man continued to chat with Arnold, who had started to be more guarded in his responses. Helga kept her eyes on the other man. He spoke to each of the waitresses and followed one or two of them around the bar. The manager was a woman that Helga had met before. She used to manage a restaurant at the other end of town. Helga excused herself and walked to the manager.

"Lucy, is that creepazoid bothering the help?"

The manager kept her eyes on the man. "He's definitely being weird. He's asked every one of the girls what they're doing after work, if they live close by, if they live alone. I don't like it." Lucy finally turned to Helga and her eyes bulged out of her head. "Damn girl, I don't think I've ever seen you dressed like that. Hot date?"

Helga smirked. "Something like that." She opened her purse and pulled out a small canister of pepper spray. "Do me a favor. When the girls leave, don't let them go alone and bring this with you. That guy sets off my Spidey sense."

Lucy took the keychain pepper spray and nodded. "You got it. Thanks, Helga."

"Don't mention it. I've got to get back to my date over there before he ends up leaving me for that guy."

"I don't think he'd look nearly as good in that skirt, honey." Lucy winked at her.

Helga blushed slightly. She wasn't used to receiving compliments on her appearance. "Thanks. Make sure the girls get home safe, okay?"

Lucy nodded and smiled. Helga returned to Arnold's side and sat down. The man was still making idle chit chat. Arnold and Helga finished their sodas and then decided to leave.

"Goodbye my friend. It was nice talking with you."

"Likewise," Helga muttered as she pushed Arnold toward the door. "I don't like those guys," she said to Arnold when they were outside.

"There was definitely something off about them. Should we hang out until they leave?"

Helga shook her head. "Nah, I left my pepper spray with the manager. She's gonna walk the girls to their cars when their shifts are over."

Arnold raised an eyebrow. "You carry pepper spray in that little purse?"

Helga snorted. "I _would_ have a little pink gun in it, if you would've let me buy it."

Arnold laughed. "Well after this experience maybe you're right. Maybe I'll go get a blue one. His and hers." They walked back to Arnold's car and started driving back to Helga's apartment. As they passed by the bar, Helga saw one of the waitresses walk out and cross the street toward the parking lot on the other side. She saw the door to the bar open again and the second man that had been at the bar exited as well. Helga turned around to watch him as they passed by. He followed the girl across the road.

"Arnold- "

"I saw. I'll go into the lot from the other entrance." Arnold turned right onto the next road and then into the parking lot. As they slowly drove through the rows of cars, they saw the man and the girl standing next to a small sedan. The driver's side door was open, and the girl was trying to get in. The man then started to reach his arms around her and draw her into an embrace. The girl put her hands up in front of her to try and push him away. He leaned in for a kiss and she turned her head. Even with the windows up, Helga could hear the girl squeal. Arnold hit the brakes and Helga was out before the car stopped.

"Hey! What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing, asshole?"

The man released the girl and turned to Helga. He glared. The man's friend, the one Arnold had been talking to at the bar, appeared from between parked cars. "He was just saying goodnight."

"Well he's done saying goodnight. Now get the hell outta here. I don't want to see either one of you in my town again, capiche?"

The second man stalked in Helga's direction while the waitress jumped in her car and locked the doors. _You wanna rumble, shithead? I may not have hit the gym in a month, but I can take your skinny ass._ Helga spread her feet, so they were shoulder width apart and adopted a fighting stance. The man walked right up to Helga and shoved her. She didn't lose her footing and was about to go for his hands to put him in an arm bar when Arnold stepped around her. He grabbed the man's wrist, twisted his arm behind him, and slammed him into the hood of a car. Helga could see he was wrenching the man's arm hard, much harder than he needed to maintain control.

"Don't you touch her, asshole," he growled. The man groaned in pain. Arnold dragged him off the car and tossed him on the ground. His friend ran over and helped him up.

"No worries. We're going. We're going right now," the man said as they scrambled away.

Helga looked at Arnold in shock. Normally she would have been indignant that Arnold had fought her battle for her, but instead she was worried. The look on Arnold's face was one of pure hatred and fury. She had never seen him like this.

"Arnold?" she said softly.

He turned to her and his look finally softened. Now he looked… scared? _What just happened here?_ she thought.

"Helga, I'm… I don't know what came over me…" He was upset. That was plain on his face.

Helga put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. Why don't you get in the car and I'll make sure she's okay."

Arnold nodded and shuffled off to the car. Helga went to check on the waitress. She was a young girl, about seventeen years old, and she worked in a few of the local restaurants as a bus girl. Helga had seen her before. She didn't know her name, but she knew everyone called her Trigger. The girl opened the car door and got out.

"You okay, Trig?" Helga asked.

The girl nodded. "Thank you so much. I… I don't know what he was going to do, but he scared me. I didn't want him to touch me." The girl hugged Helga. Helga didn't know what to do and patted the girl on the head with one hand.

"You're alright kid. Why didn't Lucy come out with you?"

"She told me to tell her when I was leaving but she was busy with a customer, so I figured it wasn't a big deal. I'm sorry."

Helga extricated herself from the hug. "Just head straight home, alright? I'll let Lucy know what happened."

The girl had tears in her eyes. "Thank you. Thank you both." The girl got in the car and started it as Helga walked back to Arnold's vehicle.

Arnold was sitting with his forehead pressed against the steering wheel. Helga got in and sat silently as she watched him. "You okay?" she asked.

Arnold didn't move. "When he touched you, I… I saw that guy with the rifle all over again. I couldn't control myself. I wasn't going to let anyone do anything to you."

Helga put a hand on his back and rubbed it lightly. "I can handle myself, you know. I'm pretty sure I weigh more than that jerkoff."

Arnold sighed. "I know that." He finally lifted his head off the steering wheel and looked at Helga. "I wanted to hurt him. Like really hurt him. I've never felt like that before."

Helga swooned. _He wants to protect me that badly? Be still my heart._ She smiled at him. "Well, I appreciate the sentiment, Hair Boy. But you might need to get your new-found temper under control. Can't have you getting in trouble over little ol' me."

Arnold smiled weakly. "I'll try. You must be rubbing off on me."

Helga laughed. "For your sake, I hope not. You'd look terrible in this blouse." She kept her warm smile. "You know how to show a woman an exciting time, Arnoldo. How about we head home?"

"You got it."

Helga thought for a moment. "And when we get there, how about you come up and we'll watch some Mystery Science Theater."

Arnold smiled at her. "Sold."

 **Note: An incident nearly identical to this one happened to me when I first started. I had officially been a cop for only a few days. The conversation in the bar and the physical contact between suspect and victim were as described. I didn't need to intervene physically to break it up though.**

 **Nettie: No funny business on the first date!**

 **Ajay: She was definitely on the verge of a meltdown up until the last moment. Arnold was not much better. I'd certainly be anxious going into a date with a woman like Helga, even if she was apprehensive herself.**

 **Nep2uune: They basically are already, they just haven't come to terms with it and there isn't much of a physical aspect yet. We'll get a bit of Lila's point of view in part II.**


	47. Chapter 46

**Canoodling**

 **May 9, 1749**

Arnold and Gerald decided to meet at the bar before the girls arrived. Gerald was obviously desperate for details.

"So how was the first kiss?" he asked, giving Arnold a devious smile.

Arnold gave him a smirk. "There was no first kiss. We went to dinner, stopped at a bar, got in a fight, and went back to her place to watch bad movies."

Gerald put up a hand. "Rewind. I can track pretty much all of that, but what's this about a fight?"

"Oh, uh, some guy from the bar got fresh with a waitress. Helga got her blood up and got in his face. He pushed her and, uh, I might've slammed his face into a Buick." Arnold winced as he recalled the incident.

"Mmmm mmmm _mmmm_. Never let it be said that my man Arnold can't show a lady a good time. Although in all honesty, Pataki probably liked that part of the night the best."

Arnold ran a hand through his hair. "She might have if she had gotten to go hands on herself. I gotta be honest Gerald, I kinda lost it when he touched her. Like, seeing red, don't know how I got over there, might have popped his arm out of its socket kind of lost it. If she hadn't been so surprised, she probably would have been furious at me for jumping into her fight." He sighed. "I think I'm still suffering from some psychological after effects from that shooting."

"Ain't nothing wrong with wanting to protect your girl, my man." Gerald slapped him on the back. "You almost lost her once, so it's no wonder you wanna protect her. Now tell me, even if there was no first kiss, was there at least some canoodling?"

"I thought canoodling included kissing?"

"Don't care, I just like the word."

* * *

 **1752**

Phoebe climbed into Helga's car for the short drive over to the bar. She was grinning at Helga the moment she climbed in. As Helga pulled away, she could feel the smaller woman's eyes boring into her.

"Whatever you want to ask, Pheebs, you might as well just do it."

"Did he kiss you?" Phoebe asked excitedly.

Helga smiled sadly. "No, he didn't." Phoebe's smile dimmed. "None of that. It was still the best date I've ever had. Not that I've had many. He even defended my honor in a parking lot from some ninny."

Phoebe gave her an inquiring look. "Pardon?"

"He beat up some guy that pushed me."

Phoebe giggled. "Your dates are weird, Helga."

The blond woman smiled. "If they were normal, they wouldn't be any fun."

* * *

 **1804**

"Glad you two could make it. We've been waiting," Gerald teased when Helga and Phoebe walked in to the bar.

"We're four minutes late," Helga said. She spotted the two empty beer bottles next to Gerald. "Why do I feel like you've been here for a while?"

"Hey, my man Arnold and I needed some time to discuss your rousing evening. Dinner and a fight, huh? Sounds about right for you, Pataki."

"I didn't even get _in_ the fight. Hair Boy here did everything and didn't let me have any fun."

"Maybe I just didn't want you to get that sexy skirt dirty," Arnold said with a smirk.

 _Did he just say sexy?_ "Uh, yeah, well… thanks for your concern, I guess."

"What would you two like to drink?" Arnold asked.

Helga rolled her eyes. "The usual, Football Head. Doi."

Arnold shrugged. "One day you might surprise me. Miss Phoebe?"

"Just water for right now, thank you."

Arnold got up to retrieve the drinks.

"So, Pataki," Gerald said. "You takin' that sergeant's spot if it gets to you? I hear you're pretty high on the list."

 _So, Arnold didn't tell him what Wittenburg said at the hospital. Guess that dope is learning some discretion._ Helga shrugged. "Dunno. We'll see how I feel about it. And for your information, I'm not high on the list. I'm at the _top_ of the list. I don't get to brag often, so give me my due."

"I stand corrected." He sipped his beer as Arnold returned with Helga's soda and Phoebe's water. "For what it's worth, I think you should go for it."

"Yeah, well, we'll see. I'm sure there will be fierce competition." Arnold gave her a questioning look, but she gave a subtle shake of the head. _Yes, I remember it's mine if I want it. No, I don't want him to know that._ Arnold seemed to get the hint. _Change the subject._ "So, Phoebe, what are your birthday plans?"

Phoebe perked up and smiled. "Oh, Gerald is taking me to that Bodies exhibit at the museum! I'm so excited. I haven't had a chance to see it yet."

Helga looked over to Gerald and wiggled her eyebrows at him. He grinned and gave her a two-fingered salute. _Good man._

* * *

"When are you due back to work?" Arnold asked as he walked Helga back to her car.

"Doc says another two weeks. I really wish I could back now though. I'm so bored, especially with you being gone all the time."

Arnold smiled. "Does that mean you miss me too?"

She elbowed him in the ribs. "Don't let it go to your head, mister. You're just a pretty face to look at when Phoebe's not around."

"Well, I'm looking forward to you coming back to work. The adventures just aren't the same without you." He stopped and took her hand in his. "Helga, I get that you didn't want to mention the promotion to anyone, and it's not really my business what you do with your career, but I think you should take it."

Helga sighed. "We talked about this, Arnoldo. I'm not sure I want to put up with anyone else's bullshit. Plus, then I have to actually play nice around the office. And you know I don't really do nice very well."

"You seem to do it pretty well around the three of us." He smirked.

 _Stop being a smart ass. It's too cute._ "You know that's different."

He looked down. "I know. I just hope you really think about it. You deserve it."

 _I'm pretty sure I don't. They're just feeling sorry for me because I got shot._ "I'll consider it. But only because you asked nicely."

"Okay. Also, I know I said it before, but I had a great time with you last night. Even if it wasn't quite what I planned."

"You didn't plan to watch Mystery Science Theater?"

Arnold laughed. "No, actually. You know what I mean. Anyway, I hope we can do it again sometime."

 _A second date? I survived a first and now he wants another?!_ "Well, I'll think about it," she said with a wink.

"Please do," he replied. He lifted her hand and bent over, gracing it with a gentle kiss. "Have a good night."

He turned and walked off to find Gerald, leaving a weak-kneed, swooning Helga holding a hand to her chest.

 **A/N: Ajay: I could have gone into the date itself, but there are so many fics that have the two of them at dinner that I don't think I really could have written anything particularly interesting for that. They've spent so much time together at this point that I'm sure once the initial awkwardness was gone, it wasn't much different from being the patrol car together.**

 **Nep2uune: It's doubtful they would be carrying their badges in those outfits. Helga wouldn't be able to get it out of that purse quickly in any event. I carry mine with a necklace chain everywhere I go just in case I need it but many guys only carry wallet badges that they can flash but can't wear. Some guys carry belt clips, but a study from Arizona (I think. Maybe Utah?) showed that officers are hit in friendly fire incidents when in plain clothes an exponentially higher rate when wearing a belt badge instead of a necklace. I imagine this is because when you see a gun in someone's hand, you don't look down to their waist to see if they have a badge but rather look at the threat. And since firearms are typically brandished at chest level, you're more likely to see their badge.**

 **Nettie: Helga has intimacy issues and Arnold is a consummate gentleman. There's going to be an adjustment period for physical interaction, I'd think. They'll get there, but the journey is part of the fun!**

 **Guest: They're still within their county so they absolutely have full arrest powers off-duty.**

 **Kryten: I dunno, I think Steve would defend his lady's honor. Arnold almost lost her once. He's not going to take a chance here.**


	48. Chapter 47

**The Second Date**

 **May 15, 1028**

"The door's open!" Helga yelled from her kitchen table.

"So, what was it you had planned for today?" As he approached the table he saw that Helga had a dirty towel over the top. Her body partially blocked his view of what she was doing, but he could see cotton swabs, a bottle of oil, and what looked like a spring on the table. "What are you doing?"

"Cleaning my gun," she said, as if that was something she did every day.

"They gave it back?"

"Nope." She picked up the spring and he could hear the sounds of metal scraping on metal and some mechanical clicks.

"Okay then. So where did this one come from?"

She looked at him over her shoulder and gave him a devious smile. He heard her pull the slide on the gun back, then release it with a clack before putting it back on the table. "I bought the pink one, Football Head."

Arnold snorted. "Did you at least try it out before you bought it?"

"Nope. Where's the adventure in that? Besides, it's a Sig. How bad can it be?"

"Well are you going to tell me what we're doing today then?"

"Oh, we're going to the range. We're gonna try out Lucinda."

He raised an eyebrow. "Lucinda?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "You're talking a woman that has named both of her fists. You think I'm not going to name my girly pistol?"

Arnold shook his head, a smile gracing his lips. "You're something else, Pataki."

She put the gun back in its case and started cleaning up her mess. "Don't forget it, buster."

"And we're spending all day at the range with one little pistol?"

Helga grimaced. "No, of course not. How lame do you think I am, Hair Boy?"

"So what else is planned for this date of epic proportions?"

"Oh no. You'll find out when we get to it."

Arnold shook his head. _What did I get myself into?_

* * *

 **1204**

The range had only lasted an hour, but Helga had been delighted with her purchase. Even Arnold had to admit it was a nice little gun. Now they were back in the car and headed to he didn't know what.

"I hope you have lunch plans, Blue. I'm famished."

"Range took a lot out of you, huh? We'll need to work on that." She smirked at him. "Don't worry your little football shaped head. We'll get something at the next stop."

"Where _is_ the next stop?"

"Ugh, take it easy, Head Boy. Can't a girl be mysterious for once?"

Arnold laughed. "Helga, you're the most mysterious woman I've ever met. Trust me, this date is not what's going to establish that."

Helga grinned. "Well we're here anyway, so you can stop your belly achin'."

Arnold looked up at the sign. It was a complex with go carts, batting cages, and mini-golf. "So, which are we doing?"

Helga parked the car and leaned toward him. She tapped a finger on his nose. "All of them. Best two of three. Loser pays for the movie."

"And which movie would that be?"

She shrugged innocently. "Oh, I don't know. I heard that Captain America movie opened last weekend. Maybe we could go see that."

Arnold gave her an inquiring look. "And you'd be willing to sit through a movie of your least favorite super hero?"

Helga waved a hand dismissively. "I suppose I can put up with it. Besides…" She clutched her hands over her heart and her face took on a dreamy expression. "Sebastian Stan is hot."

Arnold poked her side, eliciting a ticklish squeal. "Alright, enough of that. Let's get the competition underway. As soon as we get some hotdogs."

"Oh, you're on, Shortman."

* * *

Helga never did have the patience for golf, mini or otherwise, so she had already conceded that she would lose that one. Of course, she had hoped to at least keep the ball on the course, but that hadn't quite worked out either. A few holes were added to the list of things Arnold was never permitted to discuss again. She had felt much more confident going into the go kart race. She had seen Arnold drive a patrol car. He wasn't bad, but she was traffic cop with years more experience. It wasn't even a contest. So, it came down to the batting cages.

"Alright bucko. Twenty pitches each. Most hits wins. If we tie, we go another round. Good?"

"Good. Which one are we doing? Fast pitch softball?"

Helga huffed. "What kind of girl do you take me for? We're doing hardball, my friend. Fifty miles per hour. Shouldn't be _too_ hard for ya, right?"

Arnold shook his head. "I'm a little rusty, but I used to play a lot of baseball. Let's see what you got, Pataki."

"Ladies first huh? Alright." Helga grabbed a helmet and adjusted her pony tail. She dropped her token in the machine and approached the plate.

Arnold's smile faded slightly as he watched her take her stance and club the first ball with authority. _Great, she's a ringer. I'm totally on the hook for the movie._ His smile returned as he watched her. He was always impressed by her focus when she chose to buckle down on something, and she was dead set on beating his ass in her little competition. He watched as she belted out fifteen of her twenty pitches. Judging by the expression on her face she had clearly been expecting to do better.

"Let's go Arnoldo. Show me what you can do."

Arnold shook his head. "Pretty sure I'm not going to measure up to that performance. How about I just agree to get the movie now?"

"Oh no. You're not getting out of it that easy. Go up there and lose like a man."

Arnold smirked as he grabbed the bat. Helga laughed as he swung out of his shoes while missing the first pitch. "That one was a warm up," he yelled.

"I guess footballs shouldn't play baseball," she replied.

He smiled and shook his head. _She's lucky I love her,_ he thought. He froze as the next pitch sailed right by him. _Did I just think that?_

"Hey Shortman, get your head outta the clouds!"

He shook it off. _I'll have to think about that later. Right now, I have a contest to lose._ Arnold reset his stance. "This one is going long," he said. The pitch came in and he delivered a blow that would definitely have been a groundout to short.

"Shortman hits it to the shortstop. I'll give you that one, Arnoldo, but let's pick it up here."

He chuckled to himself. _Yeah, the movie is definitely on me._

* * *

Arnold made a bit of a comeback and ended with thirteen hits. He begrudgingly agreed to pay for the movie, but Helga insisted on buying the snacks. She was waiting in line for popcorn while Arnold bought the tickets. She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited her turn.

"Helga? Helga Pataki?"

Helga's back straightened. _Anyone but her._

"Helga it _is_ you!"

Helga turned slowly. "Hello Rhonda," she muttered.

"How are you doing? Recovering okay?" Rhonda's forced politeness made Helga grind her teeth.

"Just peachy, Rhonda. I should be back next week."

"That's lovely to hear. So, what do you think about Harold being the next sergeant?"

Helga cocked an eyebrow. "Harold? Have they made a decision on that already? I thought Wittenburg was going to stretch out a few more weeks."

Rhonda put one hand on her hip and placed the other on her chest. "Well I'm _sure_ I don't know what his plans were going to be, but he submitted his papers this week. He's officially retired by the time you come back, and the word is Harold is going to be offered the next spot. I'm surprised you didn't take it. You _are_ at the top of the list, after all."

"Yeah, well, I'm not sure I wanted to deal with everyone else's crap instead of just my own."

Arnold walked up behind Helga. "Here you go. Hello Rhonda."

Rhonda's eyes grew wide as she quickly looked between Helga and Arnold. Helga frowned. _The Princess knows. That means the whole office will know._ "Are you both here… _together_?" Rhonda asked.

Helga felt panic growing in her chest. She was about to snap off a biting remark when Arnold draped his arm over Helga's shoulder. She could hear her own heart pounding in her ears. "Yes, we are. Is that a problem?" Arnold asked.

Rhonda shook her head dramatically. "I'm sure _I_ don't have a problem with it. Helga dear, I'm happy for you. Lord knows that the way you drive people away, it must be a near miracle that you found someone that can accept your temperament. Enjoy your movie." Rhonda quickly turned and walked off before either of them could say anything else.

Helga shrugged Arnold's arm off her shoulder. She was angry, and he could tell. "Did you really have to do that, Football Head?"

Arnold looked at her curiously. "Do what? Aren't we here together?"

"Well, yeah, but… I dunno, I don't want to be the subject of office gossip. It's just going to be one more thing they're going to go after me for."

"Helga, they're going to find out sooner or later anyway. We might as well just be up front about it. Besides, it's not _that_ embarrassing to be here with me… is it?"

Helga met his gaze. She suddenly felt embarrassed. _I hurt him._ She looked away toward the concession stand. "That's… not what I meant. It's just… us dating is just kinda private for me. That's all. I told you, I don't date. I don't want people knowing about it."

Arnold smiled. "I get it. We can talk about it later. Let's go get our popcorn so you can drool over the Winter Soldier."

Helga took out her wallet and handed Arnold a twenty. "Can you do it? I need to go make a phone call real quick."

"Uh, sure. I'll meet you at the entrance?"

"Yeah, I'll only be a few minutes. Promise."

Helga had been true to her word and returned a short time later. She had a smirk on her face, but she refused to tell Arnold what it was about. They made their way into the theater and settled in to their seats. They suffered through the twenty minutes of previews before the movie itself began. Helga had to admit, she was enjoying it well enough. Despite not being a huge Cap fan, it was less a Captain America film and more of an Avengers piece. They were almost an hour and a half into the movie when Cap finally seemed to get his romantic moment. Helga could see the tension coming from a mile away. She huffed and rolled her eyes. Arnold sat to her left while she propped up her head with her right hand.

 _Oh God, Rogers. Just kiss the chick already. Can't you see she wants it?_ She thought to herself. _There you go!_ As the kiss began she jumped as Arnold put his right hand over her left. She turned slowly and looked at his hand, as if it were some foreign creature. She snapped herself out of her trance and looked at Arnold. He was still looking at the screen but he the corner of his mouth was twisted upward in a smirk. _Think you're smooth, huh?_

Helga pulled her hand from under his, grabbed his wrist, and flipped his hand so that the palm was facing upward. Then she placed her hand in his and intertwined their fingers. He glanced at her with a look of mild surprise. She gave a sickly-sweet smile and batted her eyelashes. Arnold chuckled.

"That was…" Sharon Carter said.

"Late," Cap responded.

"Damn right."

 _You said it, sister,_ Helga thought.

 **A/N: Nettie: Sorry, the wait continues.**

 **Kurechi: I know, I know. This wasn't a whole lot better. I'm sure everyone is tearing their hair out with these two.**

 **Guest/Ajay: Most departments have policies regarding supervisors dating subordinates. However, they usually don't have policies preventing officers of the same grade from being involved with one another. So the question becomes, if they start dating first and THEN she gets promoted, is that permissible? I can't really answer that since we don't have a policy for that scenario. I would imagine that would be a case by case basis, but it would be hard to justify denying a promotion on those grounds.**

 **Guest 2: Part II has some Phoebe/Gerald canoodling.**


	49. Chapter 48

**Big Money**

 **May 18, 1356**

"911 to patrols in the area of Lindentown Road, cross street with County Route 2, respond for a report of a possible DWI. Erratic operator reported to be traveling South on that road. Caller reports vehicle all over the roadway."

"Papa Sierra one zero seven en route." Arnold turned around and started heading toward the location of the call. Lindentown Road was a narrow country road, somewhat sunken in most places with berms or hedges on both sides for most of its length. There was no room for an innocent driver to get away from a possible drunk.

Arnold swung onto the road, but he had no idea how far down the road the suspect vehicle was. He had to balance the speed of his response with the potential of literally running into the suspect. He was still doing sixty-five when a vehicle rounded the corner ahead in his lane. He slammed on the brakes as the vehicle jerked back into its own lane. There was another vehicle following at a distance which also stopped short, allowing Arnold to make a three-point turn and swing around behind the suspect vehicle. The vehicle kept driving slowly, weaving left and right but not stopping. His sirens were still activated, and he began hitting the air horn. The vehicle finally stopped in the middle of the lane.

"One zero seven, I'll be out with that vehicle." Arnold got out and slowly approached the vehicle. As he walked to the rear driver's side door, a small dog began yipping aggressively at him. The back seat was filled with what looked to be garbage. As he approached the driver she attempted to roll down the window but rolled down the passenger side instead. She didn't seem to have realized it.

"Ma'am, could you please roll down the driver's side window?" he asked. She looked at him with a confused look before opening the door.

"I'm sorry, what?"

Arnold sighed. _Never mind, I guess._ "May I see your license and registration please?"

"My what? What do you need that for?" The woman appeared confused and she was slurring her words. Her eyes were watery and glassy.

"Ma'am, I need your license and registration. Provide them for me, please." He could smell the odor of alcohol coming from the car. As the woman began digging through her purse, he saw a one-liter bottle of tequila on the passenger seat. There was only a small amount left at the bottom. She finally handed him her license and sat there expectantly. He stared at her for a few seconds. "Ma'am, I need your registration too."

"Oh." She leaned over and started digging through her glove box. She finally located it as another patrol car pulled up behind Arnold.

"Whatcha got, my man?" Gerald asked. Arnold mouthed 'DWI' and Gerald nodded. "Papa Sierra one three three, show me out with one zero seven."

Gerald pulled around behind Arnold's car and parked before walking up behind Arnold.

"Ma'am," Arnold said. "Have you been drinking today?" He already knew the answer to that question.

"Just a little. To take the edge of. I have to drive down to the capital today."

Arnold frowned. "Ma'am, that's three hours away in the other direction. You're going the wrong way."

She looked around, confused. "Am I? Where am I right now?"

Gerald leaned forward. "She's hammered," he whispered.

Arnold nodded. "Ma'am would you please step out of the vehicle for me?"

* * *

 **1833**

"So, she gets out the car, stumbling all over the place. Totally bombs field sobriety, right? Arnold here tells her she's under arrest and she tries to run away back to the car for her dog. So, we wrestle her around, get her hooked up, and Sarge shows up. Starts yelling at us to get her back for processing so we can go back into service. Says he'll stay with the car until the tow shows up." Gerald stopped to take another sip of his beer. "So, we get her back and start the observation period for the breath test and Sarge calls me having a total meltdown. Saying we didn't search the car and shit."

"Which we couldn't have done because he kicked us off scene too fast," Arnold added.

"Right, right. So, he says, get this, he found a bag full of $100 bills in the glove box. _Thousands_ of dollars. He's hot and he wants me back at the scene to get the money and enter it into evidence ASAP. So, I leave Arnold there with this crazy bitch for a breath test. And I'm thinkin' no big deal, right? She's like 55 years old, weighs maybe one-ten, and she's hammered. What could go wrong."

Arnold already had his head buried in his arms. "A lot, apparently," he muttered, his voice muffled by the sleeves of his shirt.

"So, he unhooks this woman from the bench and has her come over to blow. She tries her damnedest, but she can't give a sample. So, what does she do? She has a meltdown. She runs out of the booking room leaving Arnold holding the breathalyzer hose."

Helga started to laugh. "So, you had a crazy woman loose in the road room."

"Yes," Arnold muttered.

"So, Arnold here has to chase crazy tequila lady around the road room, yelling at her to get back here. He finally corrals her into the booking room again. He tries to go hands on, gets this lady in an armbar… and she just stares at him!" Gerald started laughing. "She's so drunk, she can't feel any pressure points. And Arnold here being the good man that he is, he doesn't want to hurt her right? So, our man here, he-he's holding one arm," Gerald managed to get out before being interrupted by his chuckling. "He's holding one of her arms and she's pulling away from him. And with his other hand he knocks the phone off the receiver and calls dispatch and tells them to send someone down there to help him."

Everyone except Arnold was laughing now. He raised his head and slumped back in his chair. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling. "She was stronger than she looked."

"Oh, I'm sure. It looked like it took you every ounce of strength to drag her back over to the bench and hook her back up."

Helga looked at Gerald. "Wait, you actually _saw_ this?"

"That's the best part! Mr. Due Diligence over there did what he was supposed to and started the booking room recorder. This whole thing is caught on video _with_ audio. It's priceless!" He took out his cell phone and played a copy of the video. The entire shift could be heard laughing in the background.

"I can't wait for that to be played at trial," Arnold groaned.

"Aw, c'mon now Football Head. That's YouTube gold right there. Once this case is closed and you can release it, that's an easy hundred thousand views."

"That's just what I need." He shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "I'm definitely the shit magnet, Blue. Even when you're not around the crazy crap happens to me."

"Don't worry Head Boy. I'll be back soon." She poked him in the side, making him jump. "So how much money was in the car."

"Seventy grand," Arnold replied.

Helga's eyes went wide. "Seventy G's? What the hell was this lady doing with that much cash?"

"That's what the detectives want to know," Gerald replied. "I had to count it with Sarge. Sixty-five grand was in a black case, five grand was in a rubber zipper pouch, and about a hundred twenty five was in an envelope. They figure she was on her way to a drug buy in the city, got nervous and drank, and then got hopelessly lost. But she won't admit it and we didn't find any drugs, so all we could do was count it and turn it over to the jail when the judge gave her bail. She'll bail herself out in the morning."

"So, they think the sixty-five was for the buy, the five was her payment, and the money in the envelope was expenses?"

Arnold nodded. "Most likely. But if she won't talk there's no evidence of wrong doing. She gets to keep it."

"What did she _say_ it was for?" Phoebe asked.

Arnold snorted. "She claims it was her life's savings. That she made it all cleaning toilets and since she's from Cuba, she doesn't trust banks. Thing is, her immigration info says she's from Panama, so we know she's lying."

Helga shook her head and smiled at Arnold. "Hopefully I don't miss your next insane call."

"Five more days, Blue."

"Five more days, partner." She gave him a fist bump and a slap on the back.

* * *

 **2053**

"So, did you want to hang out Sunday before you head back to work?" Arnold asked.

Helga smiled sadly at him. "I'd love to, Football Head. But I have a bunch of things to do before I go back on Monday. I've been out for too long already." Her smiled faded, replaced by a frown. "They won't even let me come back to the road right away. I'm on light duty for the next six weeks."

"Well, is that the doctor's orders?"

"Maybe. But my arm feels fine."

Arnold shook his head. "Don't over do it, Helga. If you aggravate the injury, you'll be out even longer."

She punched his arm. "Didn't stop me from kicking your ass at the batting cages, though."

Arnold chuckled. "No, I guess not."

"I promise I'll see you bright and early Monday morning though." With that Helga wrapped him in a quick hug, then jogged off to catch her ride from Phoebe.

"Yeah…" Arnold said forlornly. "See you Monday."

 **A/N: This was a real call. And yes, it went down just like that. Not my finest hour. That video does still exist somewhere. DWI arrests usually take a while if you're not used to them. Someone that does them regularly can probably bang it out in an hour and a half, but if you handle a couple a year like I do, they can take three hours or more, especially if the suspect refuses to submit to a chemical test.**

 **Nettie: I'm pretty sure you'll enjoy it when it happens.**

 **Nep2uune: Helga doesn't exactly send strong messages that she desires physicality. She does, of course, but she's also uncomfortable with it. It's not something she's had much experience with in her life. Arnold also considers himself a gentleman, but he takes that a little too far to the point that he tends to miss cues that maybe he can go a little further.**

 **Guest: He's not exactly waiting for Helga to make a move, but he's probably waiting for some more positive signs. And she doesn't really send them. The end of this chapter is one of the first really open signals of physical affection she's sent him by initiating the hug herself.**

 **Ajay: That subconscious is a killer.**


	50. Chapter 49

**Return to Duty**

 **May 23, 0650**

It was another big shift briefing, and this time the A line was being held for a few minutes to accommodate it. The road room was packed with eighteen deputies. Arnold and Gerald were among them, wondering what was going on.

"What's the word? Any idea what this is about?" Arnold asked. He knew that Gerald was locked into the gossip mill that circulated the office.

Gerald shrugged. "Best I can tell, it's some sort of announcement about Wittenburg. Probably making his retirement official."

Arnold nodded. They all knew that was coming, He had been there when Wittenburg had told Helga of his plan to retire, and he knew that rumor would circulate quickly. Wittenburg hadn't been shy about it. What hadn't been widely known was that Helga was being considered for the post. Arnold hadn't told anyone, even Gerald. And Helga had steadfastly refused to tell Arnold about her decision, though she seemed to lean toward turning it down.

Lieutenant Simmons entered the room. "Alright, my special deputies. Quiet down. We have a big announcement." The room silenced. "Excellent. Now, as some of you have probably heard, Sergeant Wittenburg submitted his retirement papers shortly after he suffered a devastating line of duty injury. His retirement officially began yesterday. Anyone that would like to may sign a card located in the sergeant's office. He will also be at the union dinner next week. I hope you will all attend so that we can give him the send off he deserves after twenty-five years of service." There was some murmuring going about the room.

"Now, for the second announcement…"

Arnold turned to Gerald. "Second announcement?"

Gerald shrugged. "Beats me."

Simmons continued. "With Sergeant Wittenburg's retirement, a shift supervisor's post was opened. Three deputies were interviewed for the position and the administration made a decision. Sergeant, would you please come in?"

Everyone turned to the door into the locker room hallway. Gerald groaned, Arnold laughed, and Rhonda let out disgusted "Are you _kidding_ me?"

"No one's kidding you, Princess," said a scowling Helga G. Pataki, her crossed arms bearing bright new stripes. "B line patrols, I'm your new supervisor." She checked her watch. "You have five minutes to get your shit and hit the road, understood?" No one moved. "Dismissed. Now move it, losers!"

The room emptied quickly as everyone ran about. Most people hustled past Helga as fast as they could. Only Nadine stopped to shake Helga's hand and congratulate her. Simmons, Arnold and Gerald were the last to file past. Gerald stuck his head into the hallway to make sure it was empty before turning back to Helga.

"Congrats Pataki," he said as he gave her a light slap on the back.

"Who said you could touch me, Johanssen?" she asked with a smirk.

Gerald shook his head and grinned. "Now I've seen everything." He made his way outside to claim his car.

Simmons walked up and offered his hand, which Helga took. "Congratulations, Sergeant Pataki. I'm very proud of you."

Helga returned his smile. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate your confidence in me."

Simmons walked back to his office, leaving only Arnold and Helga in the room. Arnold gave her a goofy grin. He offered her his hand. "Sergeant Pataki."

She put a scowl in place. "Deputy Shortman." She took his hand and shook it while glancing over her shoulder into the hallway. Once she saw that the coast was clear, and no one was around, she forcefully pulled him into a hug. Arnold huffed, and Helga let out a little squeal. She released him but held him by his arms. She was smiling broadly at him and he found it infectious. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I wanted it to be a surprise."

Arnold chuckled. "Well I'm sure you surprised pretty much everyone. I hope this isn't going to have a negative impact on our relationship."

Helga sighed. "I think I'm supposed to tell them about that. I probably can't be _your_ sergeant."

"I'm just glad you're back, Blue."

Helga smiled then tamped it down into a frown. "Alright, enough fraternizing, Deputy. Back to work."

Arnold gave her a salute. "Yes, ma'am. What's your post today?"

Helga crossed her arms again and snorted. "For now, I'm stuck doing paperwork and working commo."

"I'll make sure I write you some good reports then. See ya." He reached out and squeezed her hand as he left the room.

Helga felt her heart melt into a puddle. It was all she could do to get back down to her new office without dancing.

 **A/N: Short one this time around.**

 **Guest: I don't take any offense, but these chapters are what they are at this point. Part II will have chapters that are longer on average. I try to keep the chapter a self-contained thing, like a single call or event. You'll notice very few span more than a day. That's on purpose. As far as part II goes, we'll get there soon. I'm still writing it and it's not going as quickly as this part did since I've been much busier at work. My schedule changes back to day shifts in July so I'll be sleeping like a normal person. That will help my writing greatly since I won't be exhausted all the time.**


	51. Chapter 50

**Backroom Whispers**

 **May 27, 1247**

Helga hated communications. It was _boring_. All she did was answer phones and act like a secretary all day, transferring calls to the appropriate people or taking information to dispatch cars. And on this particular day it was slow. She had spent the majority of her shift playing computer solitaire and watching classic wrestling matches on the internet. She sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. _I don't know how I'm going to survive this for even one week. I'm losing my mind already. I wonder what Arnold is doing._

She brought up the computer aided dispatch system. Each patrol unit that was dispatched through the county office, including all of the town and village departments, had a GPS tracker mounted in it. That allowed the dispatcher to automatically dispatch the closest car to a call. It also allowed the administration to keep tabs on what each deputy did on their shift. It was even possible for the dispatcher to log in to a specific car's dash camera and see what the deputy was up to. Although there were a number of policy restrictions on that particular practice. _I'm sure the Sheriff is spying on people all the time._ She clicked on Arnold's unit and the map scrolled over to it. His car was stationary at a diner with another unit. Helga read the other unit's identifier and squinted. Papa Sierra two five five. _What the hell is Football Head doing having lunch with Rhonda?_ She crossed her arms and slouched back in her chair.

"Nothing good ever comes from the Princess," she muttered. Her insecurities began to start taking over her imagination. _Could he be into her? No, he's with me. Isn't he? We've really only been on two dates, so I guess we're not really boyfriend and girlfriend. And he's never said he loves me. He deserves better than me anyway, so maybe he's finally realizing that? Is this because I turned him down for hanging out on Sunday? I should have said yes. What the crap is wrong with me? I should just_ ask _him what's going on._

Helga pulled out her phone and opened her text messages. **Whatcha up to, hair boy?**

She tapped her foot impatiently as she waited for a reply. A minute later it finally came.

Arnold: **Grabbing lunch with Rhonda. We're at Dale's Diner. You want anything?**

 _Well at least he's not hiding it. That means it's probably innocent, right? Or it means he's trying to put me at ease while he cheats on me with Rhondaloid. Cheats on me? Are we even that serious? Ugh, I hate my brain._ **Nah, I'm good. Enjoy your time with Princess**.

She slapped the phoned own and ignored his reply. She rubbed her temples with her fingers. She had to be careful. She wasn't just a Deputy any more. She was a supervisor. She could get herself in real trouble if she misused her position, and Rhonda wasn't worth her career. _I've got 15 years before I can retire. I can't jack this up. No, I'll just wait for the end of the shift and I'll grab him then. It'll be fine. Everything's fine… right?_

* * *

 **1503**

As Helga walked through the road room, she could feel eyes following her. In communications, she had been isolated from the rest of the deputies for the day, but now that she was among them again she felt she was being watched. And judged.

 _They know,_ she thought. _They all know about Arnold and me. Princess blabbed and now they're all thinking I'm soft._ Helga returned their looks with a hard stare of her own, causing each deputy to avert their gaze, but she knew once her back was turned they were looking at her again. _They're looking for the best place to stick the knife when they stab me in the back._

Then _he_ was there, standing in the doorway. Arnold smiled until he saw the look on her face. The corners of his mouth drooped downward. "Helga, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she muttered as she tried to brush past him. Arnold extended an arm and blocked the doorway. "What the hell do you think you're doing, Shortman?" she rasped.

"Talk to me. What's going on?" Arnold asked quietly.

Before she could say anything, she heard a whistle behind her. "Get it, Shortman!" someone called.

Helga wheeled around and scanned the room. Her face was red with anger and her fists were balled at her sides. To call her 'furious' wouldn't do her expression justice. "Who said that?" No one said a word. No one even moved. "If I find out who said that, I'll rip out your tongue and wrap it around your throat, you hear me?"

"Helga- " Arnold began.

Helga spun back to him. "As for you, it's _Sergeant_. Understood?"

Arnold looked confused. "Understood… Sergeant."

 _He doesn't get it. I won't be able to do my job if they think I'm weak. And being with you makes me look weak. I'm a bad woman, Arnold. You're a good man. They fear me, and if they don't fear me, how can I lead them?_

Helga turned back to the room. "I know there's a rumor going around about me and Deputy Shortman. There is _no_ relationship there. And if I hear one more word from _any_ of you, I will make your life a living hell." With that, she pushed Arnold from the doorway and marched down to her office.

Arnold stood in the doorway watching her walk away.

"What the hell was that about?" Sid asked as he moved next to him.

Arnold sighed. "Her reputation," he mumbled. _Apparently, it's more important than 'us.'_

* * *

 **1830**

Helga didn't want to be at the Union dinner. In fact, she had desperately wanted to avoid it, and especially a certain football headed deputy that would be there. She huffed. _If Wittenburg hadn't asked me to come I wouldn't be here. I could be a home writing poetry. Maybe I should get a cat. I'm probably destined to be a crazy cat lady anyhow._

"Hey Helga. Mind if I sit here?"

She didn't even turn to look at him. "Seat's taken, Arnoldo."

"Oh… Do you think we could maybe talk for a minute? In private?"

"I've got nothing to say, Football Head. Why don't you go talk to _Rhonda_?"

Arnold furrowed his brow in confusion. "What does Rhonda have to- "

Arnold was interrupted by someone tapping a spoon on a glass.

"Better go sit down, Head Boy." Helga still hadn't looked at him. She simply sat there, facing the front of the room with her arms crossed.

Arnold shook his head and sat down at the next table. She could feel him looking at her. _Just don't look at him, ol' girl. You can keep it together if you just don't look._

"Alright my special friends," Simmons said to the room. "I'd like to thank everyone, both present and retired members, for attending to night. As you all know we have a special guest tonight. Now-retired Sergeant Jack Wittenburg would like to say something to everyone."

Wittenburg stood up stiffly. He had finally lost the crutches, but he still needed a cane to get around. "Thank you, Bob. I don't need to go into what happened last month because you all know about it. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone for all of the support you've given me and my family. We appreciate it more than you will ever know." There was some light applause. "There are three people in particular I'd like to thank, and I'd like to do it with a quote I found."

Wittenburg cleared his throat and Helga groaned. _Great. He's going to call attention to us. If I have to go up with Arnold and shake his hand, I'm gonna lose it._

"This is from a Greek named Heraclitus. 'Of every one-hundred men, ten shouldn't be there. Eighty are just targets. Nine are real fighters, and we are lucky to have them, for they make the battle…" His eyes moved between Gerald, Arnold, and Helga.

 _Sheesh. He doesn't even know this quote is misattributed to Heraclitus_ , she thought.

"Ah but the one," he continued. "The one is a warrior. And she will bring the others back."

 _She? Aw fuck, he's talking about_ me? Helga felt heat rising in her cheeks as her embarrassment grew. _Leave me alone. I didn't_ do _anything but get shot._

Wittenburg raised his drink and looked at Helga. She wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole right then and there. "You brought me back, Pataki. And I can't thank you enough."

Everyone turned to look at her and began applauding. Then they started standing. _This is humiliating._

As the applause subsided and everyone returned to their seats Helga stood up and marched to the door. She heard footsteps behind her. _Don't you fucking follow me, Arnold. I swear, tonight is not the night._ She slammed the door open and nearly ran to her car.

"Helga, wait!"

"Fuck off, Arnold. I'm leaving."

She could hear him running. She felt his hand clamping down on her arm. She spun, her eyes angry and her cheeks flushed. "Do _not_ touch me!" she yelled as she swiped his hand from her.

"Helga why won't you talk to me? I don't even know what you're angry about."

"Right. Maybe you should go talk to _Rhonda_ about it."

"What's this whole Rhonda thing? Is this because we had lunch together?"

"It's because she can't keep her nose in her own God damned business. I'm not your girlfriend. We only went on two dates. Now everyone thinks we're a couple and I won't be able to do my damn job. They'll murder me in that road room."

Helga turned and began walking toward her car again. She needed to get out of there before she broke down. She wasn't going to do that in front of the whole office. Arnold followed her.

"We're not a 'thing' so go away." She finally reached her car and got in, slamming the door.

"You know what, fine. Behave like a damned child and see if I care." That wasn't quite what she expected. She turned to look at him. "You won't even let me fucking talk to you. For a woman that rushes into other people's problems for a living, you spend an awful lot of time running away from your own."

That was all she could take before she started the car and took off out of the parking lot. She left a very hurt Arnold standing there by himself.

She only made it a mile down the road before the tears started streaming down her face. She couldn't control them. She pulled off into a commerce park and found a business that was closed for the day. She parked and stared at the steering wheel. Her phone was ringing and vibrating. She picked it up and groaned. Arnold was calling. And she already had texts from Gerald and even Rhonda, both of whom had been at the dinner. She was sure she'd be getting something from Phoebe any minute, once Gerald filled her in on what happened.

 _Just leave me alone. All of you._ Helga's anger had begun to subside and now she just felt sad. _What did I do? Why do I behave like this? I pushed him away. He didn't want me to go. I'm so stupid. So, so stupid. I ruined everything. The best thing that ever happened to me. And it's_ my _fault. That's why I don't deserve him. Because I'm me, and he deserves better. I'm a God damned psycho._

Helga buried her face in her hands and wept.

 **A/N: Honestly not sure how I feel about this chapter. You guys will have to let me know. I'm open to revisions here. There are only two chapters left, so my question to you, dear readers, is should Part II be a separate story or should I just start posting it on the back of this one? I also have a chapter that doesn't really fit into the timeline of the second part so it will probably be tacked onto this one just because it's essentially a one-shot but I don't want to leave it on its own.**

 **Lilalex: I suppose this answers that question?**

 **Guest: No, Helga just can't be his direct supervisor. He'll only have to have his paperwork transferred to another supervisor. Policy-wise, our agency has no rules against deputies being involved with one another, and they were involved before her promotion. They could hold that against them, but it would be pretty wrong to do so. Her heart melted and she wanted to dance because she's having a pretty good day. She got promoted and got a hug from Arnold (granted she started it, but still).**


	52. Chapter 51

**Fallout**

 **May 28, 1745**

Arnold sat at the high top alone, staring at the table. He was in fog. Everything around him seemed to be muffled, muted. He didn't know what to do anymore. He needed help, and he knew of only one person to turn to in this situation.

"Hey, Arnold."

He raised his head. "Hi Phoebe. Thank you for coming."

She smiled weakly at him. He had bags under his eyes, and they were rimmed red as though he had been crying. His posture was slumped. He looked defeated and broken. Phoebe's heart went out to him as she sat down.

"Have you heard from Helga at all?" he asked softly.

She nodded. "I haven't heard much. She won't tell me what happened, but she said she's okay. She just wants to be alone."

Arnold sighed, his eyes becoming fixed on the table. "I don't know what happened. Everything was great, we were happy. Then she has a huge meltdown at the office in front of everyone and says we're not in a relationship." He finally looked at Phoebe. She could see the sadness that hung in them. "Then at the Union dinner, when Wittenburg thanked her for saving his life, she looked like she wanted to die. She left, and I tried to follow her but… she just wouldn't talk to me. I'm pretty sure she dumped me." He looked down at the table and slumped a little further forward.

Phoebe reached out and put a hand on his arm. "It's not your fault, Arnold. Helga puts on that brave front, but she's very insecure. She's been ignored by her family basically her whole life. The only thing she has that makes her feel valued is her career. She's worked hard at it and cultivated a certain reputation, a persona that's not exactly who she really is. And when that reputation is in danger, she goes back to being angry and pushing everyone away. She tries to instill fear. It's how she protects herself from getting hurt. In a way, it's unsurprising she would fall back onto what she's used to instead of this still very new relationship she has with you."

"I get that. But I just want her to understand how much she means to me."

"Helga can handle physical danger very well. But emotional danger is a different story." Phoebe sat back and looked at him. "Did you two ever kiss?"

Arnold looked at her, surprised. "Uh, no. We haven't gotten that far. That's kind of a third date thing for me. And we didn't get to date number three."

Phoebe shook her head. "Most guys are looking to get in a girl's pants by date three, and you're worried about being too aggressive with a _kiss_?"

Arnold blushed and scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I didn't want to seem too forward…"

"Arnold, you two were attached at the hip for two weeks before you even started dating. You hit the third date before you even went on your first one. You're trying to be a gentleman, but you're just sending mixed signals in the process."

Arnold let out a frustrated groan. "I know. I should have been more… open, I guess? More obvious with how I felt. But when we were spending time together while I was on leave, I still didn't know how I felt. It was confusing."

She regarded him curiously. "Do you know how you feel about her now?"

He nodded. "I… I love her, Pheobe."

Phoebe smiled broadly. "Then you should tell her that."

He threw his hands up in frustration. "Ugh. I'd _like_ to. But she won't answer the phone or my texts. She didn't answer the door when I went over there today." His whole body seemed to deflate in defeat. "She doesn't want to speak to me."

Phoebe shook her head. "That's not exactly true. I know Helga pretty well. She probably feels worse about what _she_ said to _you_ than anything you may have done to her. She's feeling worthless right now, undeserving."

"So how do I get her to talk to me? I know at work she'll just find a way to avoid me, and she'd probably be right to do it. We can't exactly talk about something like this in the office without it becoming a huge mess."

Phoebe thought for a moment. "Well, she's on light duty for a while, right? What does that entail?"

Arnold shrugged. "They basically put her where ever they can. Communications, security details, some of the less strenuous special details that most guys don't want to work, like community days and…" He trailed off. Phoebe could see him working something out in his mind. A smile slowly spread across his face.

"I've got an idea." He stood up to leave. "I have to run so I can figure this whole thing out. I don't mean to abandon you…"

Phoebe smiled at him. "I'll text Gerald. He'll come meet me, I'm sure. Go. Find a way to fix things with Helga. Despite the problems, I think you two will be phenomenal together."

Arnold placed a hand on Phoebe's shoulder and smiled. "Thank you, Phoebe. For everything." He wrapped her in a hug.

Phoebe laughed. "Easy, you don't want Gerald to think you're getting fresh. Now go make the silly blond smile."

"I hope I can."

 **A/N: The finale (of a sort) approaches! But, you know, not really.**

 **The consensus seems to be to keep it one story, so that's what I'm going to do for now. To everyone that reviewed the last chapter, thank you so much for your input. It was a bigger response than I expected.**


	53. Chapter 52

**Waltz**

 **May 29, 1557**

 _Light duty might be worse than no duty,_ Helga thought as she stood at the entrance to the park grounds. She had been assigned as part of the security detail for Hillwood Arts Center, an outdoor concert facility that was home to the Hillwood Symphony Orchestra during the summers. It was a beautiful place, she had to admit. But she was stuck standing a post at the entrance instead of walking through the formal gardens or taking in the view of the countryside from hilltops. No, all she got to see was the parking lot. _And where is my damn partner?_

It was a two-man post, since at least one person needed to be at the entrance at all times. Harold was supposed to be there, but he was late as usual. _That pink-faced buffoon is always late._ She idly scratched at the stripes sewn on the sleeves of her uniform. They still felt foreign to her.

"Hey, Helga."

Her heart jumped into her throat. That was not the voice she expected to hear. She turned slowly. "A-Arnold?"

Arnold stood behind her, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Harold needed the night off, so I took his spot."

 _Oh God, why? I can't be here with him. I've ruined everything already and this is just going to make it worse._ "Fine. Just keep your distance, bucko." _Why? Why do I have to talk to him like that? I should be apologizing. For everything. This is why I don't deserve him._ Helga crossed her arms and turned away. _Don't look at him. Hide the tears._

"Okay Helga. Whatever you say…" Arnold said quietly.

Three hours of awkwardness crawled by slowly. They only had to stay until the concert began and the gates were closed, but Helga felt as though her legs were going to carry her away at any moment. She had to run from this man, the man that drove her heart wild, that haunted her dreams, that had saved her life, that had sat by her hospital bed. The man she had trained and held at night when the horrors were too much for him. The man she had driven away because she was too damn stubborn to accept that maybe someone could actually want her in their life. _Just go away. Please._

The gates closed, and Helga walked hurriedly back to her bag. She had to get out of there. Now.

"Helga, wait."

"I have to go. I'm… supposed to meet Phoebe for a drink." _I could really use one_ , she thought. _Maybe now I understand why Miriam always drank herself into a stupor. At least it could make the pain go away for a little while._

"Helga…" Arnold was right behind her. She squeezed her eyes shut. _Please go away. You don't know what you do to me._ His hand was on her shoulder. A shock ran through her. _Oh Arnold…_

She turned around. "Don't touch me. What do you want?" Arnold could tell she was trying to give him a hard look, but he could see the sadness in her eyes.

"I… I wanted to know if…" He stuttered. This was harder than he thought.

Helga crossed her arms. "Spit it out. I don't have all night." _Just get this over with._

Arnold took a deep breath. "Would you… dance with me?"

Helga's look softened into one of confusion as her arms dropped to her sides. "Dance? With you? Football Head, there's no music."

He smiled sheepishly. "There will be in a minute."

"The orchestra? I don't know how to dance to that."

"I do. I'll show you. If you'll let me." He offered his hand.

"I-I d-don't know, Arnold. I think this is a bad idea," she said hesitantly. She began rubbing her elbow with her hand.

"Please," he said softly. She looked directly at him for the first time. _He looks… sad. Imploring. Maybe…_

"Okay. But I have two left feet. I'll probably stamp your toes flat."

Arnold laughed. "I'm wearing steel-toed boots, remember? You'll be fine." He took her right hand in his left and held it out to the side. He placed her left hand on his shoulder and put his right hand on hers.

Helga's heart was pounding. _Why am I doing this to myself? I want his love, not his pity._

"Follow my lead, okay? It's a three-count step." He slowly led her through a box step, turning ever so slightly as he did so. She was busy looking at her feet.

 _Helga, ol' girl, you need to run. You need to run right now._

"Arnold, I- "

She was interrupted by the start of the music. And it was, naturally, a waltz, Shostakovich Waltz 2. Helga squinted at Arnold. "Wait a minute, you planned this, didn't you?"

Arnold shrugged. "Well, it's _possible_ I looked at the program for tonight. And it's _possible_ that I told Harold I'd buy him dinner for a week- "

Helga raised an eyebrow. "A whole week? That's going to cost you a fortune. That man can eat."

Arnold chuckled. "Maybe. For now, how about we lose ourselves in the music? It's not that long of a song."

A light ran had begun to fall as they danced on the grass near the entrance. The gate attendants and other employees had all gone to listen to the show, but the pair could hear the music perfectly fine from where they were. Helga chewed her lip and refused to make eye contact with Arnold as they began to dance.

"Helga?"

"Y-yes?"

"Helga, look at me."

"No, I'm good."

"Helga please…"

"Look, I don't want your pity- "

"Is that what you think this is? Helga, I have _never_ pitied you. I've _admired_ you. Now please, look at me."

His imploring tone got to her. She turned to look at him. He was smiling softly. She felt her pulse quicken. _This can't be happening… can it?_ Their eyes locked, sapphires and emeralds, gazing deeply into one another. Arnold leaned in and turned his head slightly. Her eyes went wide, and their lips met. Fireworks went off in her brain. The walls she had built around her heart came tumbling down and she kissed him back. He moved his hands to her waist and she wrapped her arms around his neck. They weren't dancing any more and the rain was quickening, but neither of them knew they were getting wet. Even if they had, the wouldn't have cared.

The kiss lasted for what seemed to be an eternity, but it still wasn't long enough for Helga when they finally separated. She blushed and looked away. "Arnold, I… I don't know what I'm doing."

Arnold gently grabbed her chin and turned her face back toward him. He cupped her cheek and ran his thumb over her cheekbone while he pressed his forehead against hers. "I know what _I'm_ doing. Sharing my first kiss with the woman I love."

Helga's eyes went wide, tears beginning to run from the corners. "Love?"

He smiled. "Yes, love. I love you, Helga G. Pataki. And I'm sorry it took me so long to say it."

Helga smiled widely and pulled him down for another kiss. When their lips parted she looked at him with half lidded eyes. "Say it again."

Arnold laughed. "I love you."

She jabbed a finger into his chest. "And don't you forget it, bucko."

Arnold twisted her to the side and put one hand on her back while picking her up in his arms with the other under her legs. Helga squealed in laughter. "What are you _doing,_ Football Head?"

"I'm taking my lovely lady on a date to listen to an orchestra."

"Criminy, you could have just asked me to go with you. I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own, even if my knees are weak."

He smiled at her. "Oh, I know how strong you are, Sergeant Pataki. But you're going to have learn to let me carry you from time to time."

"Is that so?"

"Absolutely. That's what good couples do, right? They carry each other when they have to."

She chuckled. "I'm not sure I can lift your fat ass."

"Nonsense. I've heard you carried Wittenburg. If you can carry _his_ fat ass, you can carry anyone's." He winked at her.

"Well then at least tell me where we're going, since you won't let me have control here."

Arnold nodded to a small stone wall near the concert hall. "Just right there."

"We don't have seats? You're cheaping out on me, Arnoldo."

"Somehow I doubt they'd want two water-logged deputies sitting in on their concert. Besides, there might be another waltz later."

They reached the wall and he set her down. He sat next to her and intertwined his fingers with hers. She leaned against his chest. Even with his vest on, she could hear his heart beating. Or maybe she just thought she could. Either way, it felt like it was in synch with hers, and she had never felt so happy. She knew she was trouble, a total mess, a nightmare. He could be incredibly dense and his do-goodery would get him into troubles of his own. But she finally stopped fighting herself. She was ready to go through that fight with someone at her side, someone who didn't pity her but loved her.

 **A/N: This is the story of my first kiss with my ex. We weren't cops, but we had a discussion the week before about how neither of us knew how to dance. So, I had my grandmother teach me to waltz because I knew there was one on the program that night. I'm not sure how I worked up the courage to ask her to dance, let alone to kiss her. We got thoroughly drenched, but we sat in the rain the rest of the night listening to the concert.**

 **This was originally the end of the story, so I had a bit more here to wrap things up but obviously since it will be continuing I took some of that out. Posting will definitely be slower from here on out because, unlike this part, I don't have everything finished before I'm starting to post it, so please be patient.**

 **Nep2uune: He wasn't going to let her go without any sort of fight. Although I'm still not sure he should take much advice from Gerald on the ladies. If I recall from the show, Gerald generally got shot down by everyone but Phoebe.**

 **CupcakeArtist: I realize that the end seems abrupt because their journey as a couple hasn't begun. But I think many stories on here tend to end just as they get together. I wanted to leave it open to a second part from the get-go, but I didn't have anything planned at the time.**


	54. Chapter 53 - Management Styles

**Management Styles**

 **May 30, 1828**

She hadn't faced Phoebe since her meltdown at the Union dinner, and she hadn't even spoken to Gerald since that night, so to say she was apprehensive would be a massive understatement. Perhaps not so much with Phoebe, who had stood by her through much worse behavior on her part. But Gerald was certainly a concern for her. They had never really seen eye to eye in the first place, but he had made an effort that she hadn't quite matched. Then she had hurt Arnold in an astonishingly cruel and public way, and she knew how protective Gerald could be of his friend. She bit her lip as she entered the bar, bracing herself for an uncomfortable evening as she tried to gather the materials she would need to rebuild a bridge she had burned with particular prejudice. To make matters worse, Arnold was working, and she would have to face Gerald alone.

As she entered, she quickly spotted the couple due in no small part to Phoebe's excited waving. She wore a big smile that would have been infectious if not for the scowl her companion displayed on his own face. Helga gulped and made her way to the table, fighting mightily to keep a scowl off of her own face and to keep her normal defenses in check. _Gerald has a right to be mad at you. Don't make it worse by being… well, you_ , she thought.

Before she could slide into a seat at the table, Phoebe left her own seat and wrapped the taller woman in a hug. Helga smiled as she returned it gently. "Hey Pheebs," she said softly.

"I'm glad you came, Helga. Things went well last night, I trust?"

That question immediately brought a smile to her face as she thought back to the wonderful events of the previous evening. "It was amazing, Pheebs." Helga's smile faded as she sat in her seat and finally made eye contact with Gerald. He was still staring daggers at her. "Uh, hey Gerald."

Gerald nodded stiffly. "Pataki. I'm surprised you have the balls to show up after the bullshit you pulled the other night."

Phoebe elbowed him. "Gerald!"

Helga's impulse was to yell angrily and storm out, but she fought it with all her might despite the heat she felt rising in her face. "It's fine, Phoebe. He's right to be mad at me. I was pretty mad at myself." She sighed. _Mad is perhaps too soft a word. Infuriated, incensed, livid-_

"You're lucky he's the most forgiving person on the planet, Pataki. He would have been right to walk away and never speak to you again."

Helga couldn't help herself this time. "Don't you think I know that?" she snapped. "I may be anti-social but I'm not stupid, Gerald. I'm very well aware my behavior was out of line. I didn't expect him to want to see me again, let alone actually _be_ with me. Trust me, I've beat myself up worse than you ever can. So if you have any more words of wisdom I've already thought of a million times, please, be my guest and share them with the group now."

Gerald grunted and walked to the bar for a drink. Phoebe watched him go before turning back to Helga with a sad look in her eyes. "I had hoped that wouldn't happen, but I expected it," she said.

Helga shrugged. "I expected worse. I deserve it, anyway." She sighed. "I shouldn't have yelled back. I'm trying to be better Phoebe, but old habits die hard."

"He obviously cares about Arnold, but he cares about you, too, Helga."

Helga snorted derisively. "Yeah, sure."

"He does. He wouldn't say it to your face, I'm sure, but he does."

"I'll believe it when I see it," she replied as Gerald returned to the table with drinks. He put a soda down in front of Helga, much to her surprise. "Uh, thanks."

He waved a hand dismissively. "Don't think it means I forgive you. It's just a soda."

Helga stared at the glass for a moment before taking a deep breath. _Okay, just be a big girl and apologize. You can do this._

"Gerald, I'm… sorry."

"I'm not the one you should apologize to."

She looked at him and narrowed her eyes. "Yeah, well I already apologized to him. So now it's your turn."

"Fine, Pataki. I take your apology in the spirit in which it was intended, unnecessary though it may be. The real question is, are you gonna be this much of an asshole to your underlings now that you have stripes?"

"Isn't that what sergeants are for?"

"No, it's not."

Helga crossed her arms and stared at him. "Then please enlighten me."

"How many sergeants have you worked under, Pataki?"

"Four."

"And how many were actual leaders instead of just managers?"

"I assume by that statement you mean how many actually motivated me to do work and how many did I respect?"

"More or less."

"None."

"How many of them tried to lead through fear?"

Helga had to actually think on that for a moment. "Just one."

"And how many people do you think would've followed him to Hell and back?"

"Heh. Not me, that's for sure."

"And I'm willing to bet that little display you pulled in the road room when you practically crushed Arnold's soul was your attempt to instill fear in your squad?"

Helga chose to ignore the barb and address his question. "Yeah. So?"

Gerald leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. "My point is, this whole thing where you want everyone to be afraid of you may have worked when you were all alone in a traffic car and made them all look silly with your arrests and your tickets. But that's not your role any more. You're a sergeant, and that means you need to lead."

"It's better to be feared than loved," she scoffed.

Gerald threw his hands up. "Dammit Pataki, don't give me that Machiavellian bullshit. This isn't Renaissance Italy and you're not a prince. I'm not saying you need to make them _love_ you. But having them fear you will only go so far, and when the time comes that _you_ need _them,_ they won't show up because they ultimately won't give a fuck about you!" Helga stared at him for a moment before laughing. Gerald looked at her in confusion. "What's funny? Did I say something funny?"

"No, it's just that I never figured you as someone that's read Machiavelli. Plus, you're probably right." She relaxed a bit. "I'm not making any promises, Geraldo. I've been using fear to my advantage since pre-school."

Gerald folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. "Pataki, I don't know what your life was like and Arnold won't tell me what little he knows. And that's fine, it's your business. But the impression I get about you is that above all you're a survivor. You're not going to survive very long as the asshole sergeant. Your squad will have shit morale, they won't do any work, the administration will get on your ass to produce more, and what's your recourse? Are you just going to scare people more? You think some deputy that you scream at every day is going to drag _you_ behind cover if you get shot?"

Helga snorted. "Wittenburg was an ass, but I did it anyway."

"You really wanna bank on everyone else doing what's right?"

Helga scowled. "I think you underestimate our coworkers."

Gerald smiled for the first time. "Ah, she has faith. I bet if they love you instead of fear you, they might even let you lead them in the right direction."

Helga looked at Phoebe. "I can't believe you're letting him talk to me like this," she said with mock scorn.

Phoebe merely sipped her drink. "I can't believe _you_ are letting him talk to you like this. This conversation is fascinating."

Helga sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'll give the whole not being a tyrant thing a try. But if no one listens to me because of it, you're picking up the slack. Understood?"

Gerald thought for a moment then nodded. "Deal."

* * *

The rest of the evening proceeded cordially, though Helga still felt on edge. She couldn't figure out exactly why, but there was a tension between her and Gerald that hadn't been settled after their conversation. As she walked to her car in the parking lot, she heard Gerald call out behind her.

"Pataki, you got a minute?"

"For you Geraldo, I might even have two," she said sarcastically. She didn't stop walking so Gerald jogged to catch up with her.

"Listen, I know you've got all kinds of crazy shit going on in that head of yours. And I know you and Arnold figured out whatever it was that you needed to figure out."

"I feel like there's a 'but' coming."

Gerald stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. He had a serious look on his face. "You ever hurt my man again like you did that day, I swear to all that is good and holy that I will make your life a living hell."

Helga scowled. It was all she could do to keep her anger in check. "Listen bucko, I know I'm not the easiest person in the world to like or even tolerate. But for some reason that goofy boy likes me and I'm not about to fuck that up again. And not that it's any business of yours, but he's the only man I've ever loved. I'm 26, and I've never loved a male member of the species before. You have any idea how that _feels,_ Gerald?"

Gerald smirked. "I've never loved a man either, and I'm doing alright."

Helga narrowed her eyes. "Cute. Also bullshit, since your bromance with my boyfriend borders on creepy, but you're lucky I'm not the jealous type and I'm willing to share."

"Speaking of bullshit…"

"Okay, _fine_. I'm super jealous and that's part of what led me to having a breakdown. Happy?"

Gerald sighed. "Look, I understand you were under a ton of stress. Recovering from near-death, new relationship, promotion, being relegated to do-nothing posts for weeks. I get it, Pataki. All I'm saying is, if you gotta take that stress out on someone, don't let it be him. He doesn't deserve it and you know that."

Helga raised an eyebrow. "Are you volunteering to be the sacrificial lamb next time I'm on the edge of a breakdown?"

"If that's what it takes." Gerald's expression softened. "He's a brother to me. I'd do anything for him."

Helga hung her head and crossed her arms. _I would be acting even worse if he had hurt Phoebe the way I hurt Arnold._ "I get it Gerald. I do. I never meant to hurt him. And I will do my level best not to hurt him again. But I'm a basket case, so I can't promise it won't happen by accident. That's just who I am. I would change a few things if I could, but overall I like being me."

Gerald looked at her for a moment then nodded. "Alright, Pataki. You're being honest, and I can respect that. But don't expect to be in my good graces for a while."

She looked back at him with a smirk. "If you forgave me after one day, you'd be a shitty best friend."

Gerald smiled. "Glad we understand each other. Goodnight Pataki."

Helga glanced over to where Phoebe waited impatiently. "Judging by how anxious your girlfriend looks, I'd said it'll be a good night for _you,_ at least." She winked, then stepped around a stunned Gerald and got into her car.

 **A/N: Okay, so I'm kinda in uncharted territory here because I'm posting chapters without really knowing what my end game is going to be. This is not one I had prepared in advance either, as I just wrote it in the past few days. I feel there needs to be some connective tissue to the coming chapters though so this is the start. Someone needed to get into Helga's head and make her realize she needs to change her style when it comes to leading. I'm not sure Phoebe or Arnold have the force of character to beat that into her head. They'll support her, no doubt, but Gerald seems better suited to _push_ her.**


	55. Chapter 54 - Patience

**Patience**

 **June 12, 2234**

Helga had been in communications again, so her mood was already foul. _Two more weeks_ , she thought. _Just two more weeks and I can be back on the road where I belong._ It wasn't that dispatch was particularly hard for her. It was a great deal of multitasking, which she would be the first to admit wasn't her strongest suit. She was better when she was able to laser in on an issue and deal with it directly. But even so, the stress of the dispatch desk was nothing like the stress of driving to a hot call or dealing with unruly subjects. No, it was the fact that she didn't get to actually fix the problems and instead had to send someone in her stead to do it. She acknowledged that as a supervisor, delegation of responsibility was going to be her new lot in life. But at least once she got back on the road she could drive to the call and check up on her deputies, put them on the right path, and see the end result. At the moment, the best she could do was hope to read about what the deputy did on their own in the report they submitted at the end of the shift or the next day.

And the reports were their own nightmare. She wasn't entirely certain how Harold had ended up in her squad since he worked midnights and she basically never saw him in the flesh. But his reports were submitted to her and she often couldn't make heads nor tails of them. Getting his reports to a point where a layman could read them and understand what happened was going to take some time. The problem today, however, wasn't Harold but Sid. Sid was a pretty decent cop, if somewhat nervous, and his reports were generally good. But on his last domestic incident, he hadn't filled out the report correctly and left a number of the boxes blank. It was the first time she had dealt with one of his domestic reports, so she assumed that Wittenburg had never cared about it or possibly even looked at the reports before sending them on to the state. She knew Sid had called out on his radio that he was at the office, so she decided she could have a civil conversation about it. _I can do this without yelling. It's a minor issue. Paperwork, easy fix. I got this._

Helga took a deep breath and made her way into the road room. She expected to see Sid sitting at a computer, diligently working as he often was. But only Gerald was present. Helga frowned.

"Where's Sid?"

Gerald shrugged without looking away from his computer. "Dunno. He hasn't come in here since he called out at the office."

Helga was about to go looking for him when she heard the door from the motor pool slam open against the wall. Sid's voice could be heard before he could be seen.

"Gerald! I fucked upheyyyy sarge," he said as he skidded to a halt.

Helga crossed her arms and shot Sid a glare. "I believe you were in the middle of saying something rather important to Gerald, Deputy."

"What? Gerald? Didn't even know he was here."

Helga narrowed her eyes. "What did you do, Sidney?"

Sid flinched. The use of his full name reminded him of a motherly scolding. Helga, however, was anything but motherly in his eyes. "N-nothing. Everything's fine, nothing is ruined."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Forgive me if I don't believe you. Now, what. Did. You. Do?"

Sid nervously rubbed his hands and refused to make eye contact with Helga. Well, you see, I was at the Town Park down the street, running radar. And I had to go to the bathroom, right? So, I went over to the park dumpster to, uh, relieve myself."

"Sid, why on Earth would you go over there when the bathrooms are unlocked?"

"Because I'd have to park a patrol car near it, and anyone that saw me go in there would know they could literally catch me with my pants down."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Oh brother."

"It's an officer safety issue, sarge!"

Helga waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, I get it. So far nothing you've said is anything concerning so please, continue to the part where you freak the fuck out and come running in here like a maniac."

"Well, I, uh, did my business behind the dumpster, and, uh, got back in the car. And you know how tight it is back there, like a mini cul-de-sac or something, so I had to do like a six-point turn. And it's possible I, uh, might have kinda, you know, backed into something."

"Backed into something? The car has a backup camera, Sid." Helga could already feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she lowered her arms to her side and balled her fists. "What did you do to your Explorer?"

Sid shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back.

"Sidney…" she growled.

"I may, _may_ , have backed into the uh, well… the dumpster."

"You _what?_ " Helga yelled. "That dumpster is enormous! How in the ever-loving _fuck_ did you not see that in the camera?"

Sid shrank from Helga. "I, um, I got a text, you see- "

"You were playing with your phone while trying to make a six-point turn in a tight space with a freaking _dumpster_ behind you?"

"Well… yes."

Helga heard someone behind her clearing their throat. She slowly turned her head and saw Gerald glaring at her as he leaned forward with his elbows on the desk. "How very… _princely_ of you, Sarge," he said softly but sternly.

Helga growled and turned back to Sid. "What's the damage? Does it need a new bumper?"

"Uh, well, no. The bumper is fine, actually."

"Then why the panic?"

"Well, you see, the dumpster has these, well these _projections_ that stick off of it so the truck can pick it up, and I might have hit one of those."

"So, you took out a tail light cover?"

Sid shook his head meekly.

"License plate?"

Sid shook his head again.

"Criminy Sid, will you stop making me guess and just fucking _tell_ me already?"

"It shattered the whole rear windshield and there's glass all over the trunk organizer," Sid said as quickly and quietly as he could.

"You broke the _windshield?_ Sid, how the hell am I supposed to explain _that_ to the Lieutenant? And I don't even want to _think_ about Wartz will do! I'm going to have you cleaning the entire patrol fleet for a month!"

Gerald walked up next to Sid, who was nearly cowering in fear at that point. Gerald put a hand on his shoulder. "Come on Sid, stand up straight." Gerald looked directly into Helga's eyes. "Everyone sees what you appear to be, few experience what you really are." _Oh, you clever asshole_ , Helga thought. _Dropping a quote from_ _The Prince_ _like that._

Helga sighed as she dipped her chin and pinched the bridge of her nose while squeezing her eyes shut. _It was an accident. Don't forget that time you blew out both front tires on a curb trying to turn on that car when you were a rookie._ "Alright Sid, relax. Let's just go look at the damage. I'll do an accident report and send it to the Lieutenant and you'll have to write a memo about what you did and how you're going to prevent it in the future."

Sid finally looked up at her. "You're… you're not mad?"

Helga opened her eyes and grit her teeth. "I'm not going to pretend I'm _happy_ , especially since we know how long it takes the body shop to get anything done. But a broken window can be fixed. It's not like you shot someone." She looked at the man and squinted. "You _didn't_ shoot anyone, right?"

Sid shook his head forcefully. "No Sarge, I swear, didn't shoot a soul tonight."

"Good. Alright, pull the car over to the garage. I'll do the report and then I'll help you clean out the back. Just don't do anything until I've look at it, okay?"

"You got it boss." Sid quickly ran back out the door, causing almost as much noise as he had on the way in.

Helga turned her gaze to Gerald. "I underestimated you, Johansson."

Gerald shrugged. "Not really. After our talk the other night, I spent half the night looking up Machiavelli quotes on Google and memorizing them just so I could make you freeze." He smiled. "You barely skipped a beat though, so I guess I underestimated you too."

"Not really. Because guess who's _actually_ going to help him clean that car?"

Gerald's smile faltered. "What'd I do to deserve that?"

"You tried to catch me flat-footed. You almost did too." A grin spread across Helga's face. "But you forget that I have not only the power but the _responsibility_ to delegate tasks that are not an efficient use of my time. And I seem to recall that I have a few levels in Tetris to beat on my phone."

"This punishment doesn't seem to fit the crime."

Helga took a step closer to Gerald and jabbed her finger into his chest. "And don't you forget it, bucko. I'm Judge Judy and executioner in this place."

Gerald groaned. "You and Arnold watched Hot Fuzz yesterday, didn't you?"

"Nope. This morning. Now go get to work, Deputy."

"Yes ma'am," Gerald said dejectedly.

Helga watched as he left the road room with his shoulders hunched in defeat. _If making the squad love me lets me make Gerald miserable, then I'll be the loveliest sergeant these chumps ever met,_ she thought with glee. As she made her way back down to her office, she began to mull over the many ways she could make Gerald suffer every time he called her back into line.

 **A/N: I intended to have this up two days ago, but work has been insane this past week. I had my first 19-hour day, caught my first car thief, and rode in the armored truck on a SWAT raid. I also worked 55 hours in 4 days. So with that, I'm going to go pass out for a bit.**


	56. Chapter 55 - Dallas

**Dallas**

 **July 7, 2022**

Helga pushed the door from the motor pool open. It was hot and sticky outside and her t-shirt was stuck to her like a second skin. _I wish I could wear an external carrier for this vest,_ she thought. _This under the shirt shit is miserable in the summer._ The road room was occupied by the outgoing shift members who were trying to get their reports finished before they stopped getting paid. Helga walked into the sergeant's office and flipped on the lights. None of the other sergeants were around so she had the room to herself. She started up her computer and turned on the TV while she waited for it to finish booting. The TV was eternally tuned to one of the 24-hour news channels. Fox, CNN, MSNBC, it didn't matter. No one really watched it anyway. It was usually just background noise for work. Helga was hoping to find a baseball game to take the place of incessant droning of talking heads, but the headline on the screen caused her to freeze.

Shots fired at Dallas protest. Multiple officers down. Shooter still active. The news channel was playing eyewitness videos over and over, multiple shots being heard in the background. Helga sat there, her eyes fixed on the screen, trying to comprehend what she was seeing.

"Sarge?" Helga slowly turned her head toward the door where Sid stood. "You alright Sarge?"

Helga pointed to the screen and Sid walked further into the office. He saw the headline. "Shit Sarge. They're gunning us down like animals."

"What do you need, Sid?" she asked quietly.

"Uh, it's not important Sarge. I'll get you later." Sid could see she needed a moment. He shut the door on his way out.

 _Dallas wasn't a hot spot. They didn't have the problems of Chicago or St. Louis or Baltimore. Why would someone do this? At a protest, of all places?_ Helga couldn't wrap her head around it. It didn't make any sense to her. She shook her head, snapping herself out of her trance. She stood up and walked into the road room. Someone had turned on the TV in there too and they were all watching the news reports.

"Hey, listen up," she said firmly but without her usual bluster. The room looked over at her. "From this point forward, if you're on my shift I want two cars responding to every emergency call. Any brass busts your balls, you direct them to me. Cover the other guy's six." She pointed at the TV. "I'm not gonna see any of you on the news if I can help it. Savvy?" Everyone nodded. "And back up state and local PDs if they don't have two cars. We're all in this shit show together. As you were." She turned and left the room. The end of the shift couldn't come soon enough. She wanted nothing more than to get home to Arnold.

* * *

 **2347**

Helga walked in to Arnold's apartment and set her bag down before proceeding to the couch and flopping down heavily next to Arnold. Before he could do anything, she laid her head on his lap.

"Well, I missed you too," he said as he leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"You saw the news?" she asked softly.

He nodded solemnly. "Yeah. I can hardly believe it though."

"You'd better believe it, bucko. We're being hunted."

"I don't know about _that_. This is one incident. It hardly indicates a conspiracy."

She sat up and glared at him. "Oh, you don't think so? Protests against us all over the country? Cops getting _murdered_ in the streets by rifle fire? The media tearing us apart for everything we do, painting us all with a broad brush when one or two cops do something stupid? You think that's _not_ a conspiracy?"

"Helga, the average person doesn't go out in the morning thinking of a way to mess with the police. Most people don't even notice us because they don't have any contact with us. We spend, what, ninety percent of our time dealing with less than ten percent of the population? This guy was a psychopath. You can't defend against that sort of thing. Besides, an event like this will probably take a lot of wind out of the sails of the anti-police people."

Helga sat up and snorted. "Or embolden them." She crossed her arms in front of her and stared at the wall. "Why do we even do this job if everyone hates us for it?"

"Because someone has to do it. And if we don't, then it'll be someone less intelligent, or less principled, or less motivated than us. That's why we _have_ to do it." He sighed. "You know as well as I do that there's real evil in this world. Most people forget that until something like this happens, but we see it every day. You know how I feel about all that 'thin blue line' and 'sheepdog' nonsense that some of the guys throw around, but in a way it's true. It's not exactly 'us versus them' in the sense of us against the general public, but it's definitely us against the bad guys."

"There you go again, being the paragon of virtue in a sea of utter bullshit," she mumbled.

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. She still didn't look at him or uncross her arms, but despite her best efforts a small smile curled the edges of her lips. He started kissing her neck lightly. "You're going to ruin my foul mood if you keep that up, Football Head."

"Oh, how terrible that would be," he replied sarcastically. He released her and stood up, much to her disappointment.

"I was only kidding, Arnoldo," she said dejectedly.

"Oh, I know it. But I got something for us to watch tonight." He walked into his room and she heard the rustling of a plastic bag. He tossed a DVD case at her as he walked back into the room. She caught it and raised an eyebrow at him.

"Zootopia? For real? I knew you were a Disney nerd."

Arnold shrugged. "I must get my sunny disposition from somewhere. I heard it was good. Plus, it portrays cops in a positive way, from what I read. Maybe it's the pick-me-up you need right now."

Arnold resumed his seat while she looked at the back of the case. _Eh, what can it hurt? At least it means I'll get to spend the night on the couch with him._ "Alright, Head Boy. You've convinced me. Let me change into my sweats and we can put it on."

A short while later they were cuddled up tight on the couch, two grown adults watching an animated kid's movie. But Helga wouldn't have it any other way.

"This rabbit is so idealistic I want to vomit," she said. Helga cast a glance at Arnold. "She's just like you."

"Oh, so I suppose that makes you the cynical fox?" he said with a wry grin.

She shook her head. "No, I'm more the angry buffalo. Disgruntled and angry at political interference."

Arnold chuckled. "Or just, y'know, angry." He received an elbow to the ribs for the comment. "Oof, okay, I got it. And skeptical of the idealistic youngsters that are assigned to you?"

"Eh, you're the only youngster that was ever assigned to me."

"You're only like, seven months older than me."

"Ah, but I'm about four years older in police years."

Arnold thought for a moment. "So, you were what, twenty when you started the academy?"

"Your math skills are beyond compare."

"Did you think about going to college before the academy? You're definitely smart enough for it."

Helga huffed. "What makes you think I didn't do the college thing, hair boy?"

He shrugged. "Did you?"

"Damn right I did, buster. I've got a BA in Literature."

Arnold raised an eyebrow. "You got a four-year degree by the time you were twenty?"

"Meh, it's only a four-year degree if you take the common road map and the whole fifteen credits a semester thing. I took a bunch of college credit in high school, did full summer semesters, and took way more than fifteen credits a semester." She looked up at him. "I didn't have much of a personal life back then, so why not dump all my time in burning through college? I couldn't wait to be out of that lousy place anyway." She rolled back toward the TV. "Too much booze and sex for my liking."

"You never cease to amaze me, Miss Pataki."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm amazing. Now can we get back to the movie, please? This bunny's idealism and naivete is growing on me, much like some football headed geek I know."

Arnold smiled to himself as he stroked her hair. "Whatever you say Helga."

 **A/N: The Dallas shooting was a rough time for me. It made me wonder why I was even doing the job if someone was going to murder people just like me for simply trying to help people. I know police officers don't always have the best reputation, but I have yet to meet one that puts on the uniform with the intention of going out and abusing someone. Zootopia actually made me feel a little bit better about things when it was tough going, because it was a popular movie that had a generally positive portrayal of police. And for it's realistic portrayal of the DMV. For those of you across the pond, the movie was for some reason renamed Zootropolis. I'm not sure what the thought process was behind that.**

 **Also, I should mention that I shared the car with the guy who broke the rear windshield on my Explorer. He was doing exactly what Sid did, but unlike Sid he thought it was funny. I didn't. In 6 months, I only got to drive the car I was actually assigned to for a few weeks, partially because of this incident. The shop we take the cars to for major repairs took forever to get it done. The rumor was they did it on purpose because a deputy wrote one of their mechanics a speeding ticket (if the rumor was true, he deserved it).**


	57. Chapter 56 - County Fair Pt 1

**The County Fair**

 **1157 August 24**

"You've never worked fair detail before. You don't _know_ how much it sucks." Helga scowled as Arnold drove the side-by-side ATV through the fair grounds. The gates had yet to open for the day, but carnival workers, farmers, and booth presenters of all types were already wandering around the paths and the midway.

"Well, maybe not. But I've been to the fair before. It's not _that_ bad." Arnold pulled the ATV up to the "Command Center," which was the generous name given to the small shack that served as the hub for the Sheriff's Office operations in and around the grounds. The building was 15 feet wide by 20 long. It housed a base radio system, a laptop for writing reports, four chairs, a temperamental air conditioner, and the most important piece of equipment; the fully stocked and functional fountain soda dispenser.

"Arnold, there's one thing you need to be aware of," Helga said as she opened the door to the shack. "You're going to see people at the fair that you don't see at any other time of the year. And I'm not talking about the carnies. Most of them are relatively harmless. I'm talking about the real deep woods hicks. The guys who think mullets, sweat pants, wife beaters, and real tree camo hats are the epitome of men's fashion. You're going to see more women in leopard print leggings that shouldn't be wearing leggings at all then you ever dreamed of. And that's before the even reach the beer tent." Helga removed her hat and tossed it on the table.

Arnold chuckled. "Seems a little harsh, doesn't it?"

Helga turned and jabbed a finger into his chest. "You don't get to judge until _after_ you've ushered everyone out of the beer tent at the end of the night. Those drunk jerk-offs will fight you at the drop of a trucker hat. Nadine and her boyfriend will be the sweetest sights you ever see."

Arnold gave her a confused look. "Her boyfriend?"

"You know, Ajax." Arnold's frown deepened. Helga rolled her eyes. "Her _dog_ paste for brains!"

"Oh, right. Hey, it's not like I ever really see that dog."

Helga crossed her arms and glared at him. "It's plastered in big, block letters on both sides of her truck, Football Head."

Arnold just shrugged and put his hat next to Helga's. "So how long until the gates open?"

"They open at 1300, so we have another hour."

"Will it be busy today?"

"Well, it's Wednesday, so I'd guess not until after work. But the demolition derby is tonight and tomorrow, and that always attracts a crowd."

"They still do that?"

"Hell yeah," Helga said with a grin. "It's the only part of the fair that doesn't suck. Especially the minivan division. Those things take a beating and keep on going."

Arnold smiled at her. "I should've known you'd be into the demo derby."

Helga gave him a side long glance as she grabbed a cup for the soda machine. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I dunno. You're into wrestling. The demo derby seems to be the sort of thing a wrestling fan would be into."

She arched an eyebrow as she took a sip of her soda. "Are you calling me trailer trash, Shortman?"

"Well, not _trash…_ " he replied with a grin.

Helga scowled at him. "You'll pay for that one, Arnoldo."

Arnold laughed. "I'm sorry, it just doesn't seem to fit. An attractive, fit, professional, and intelligent woman in her mid-twenties with a college degree who likes sci-fi, wrestling, monster trucks, and demolition derby. You don't think that's something of a contradiction?"

"The only contradiction I see is that an angry wench like myself puts up with a goody-two-shoes like you. You also left out my love of Disney cartoons."

Arnold smiled and walked over to her. He placed his hands on her shoulders and placed a quick kiss on her nose. "You put up with me, huh? Funny, I thought it was a bit more than that."

Helga smirked at him. "Maybe a _bit_ more. But don't flatter yourself too much. We can't have your head getting even bigger."

Arnold winced. "Harsh."

She tapped her finger twice on his nose. "But true. Come one. Let's go make sure the village cops are on their post doing traffic duty. If no one's out there it'll get real ugly, real fast." They both grabbed their hats and walked out the door.

"Out of curiosity, why do the village guys do traffic for this thing? It's a county fair, and they're on a state road. I get that it's within the village line, but it just seems like something one of the other agencies should deal with."

Helga climbed into the driver's seat of the ATV. "Have you ever done traffic for an event of this size?"

"Well… no."

"Then let me educate you. It's the absolute fucking worst. You stand out in the sun or rain for twelve hours where it's usually hot as hell. During the day you have drivers that are impatient to get home or into the fair. At night, you have all of the idiots that leave the beer tent trying to drive home. You stand in the middle of the road with your back to at least one direction of traffic. I'm honestly amazed those poor bastards don't get hit by idiotic motorists. And to top it all off, you're on your feet most of the day and sucking in exhaust fumes. Trust me, we don't _want_ to do it."

"I'll take your word for it. At least we're on the inside. We can have _some_ fun, right?"

"Whatever you say, Football Head," Helga grumbled.

* * *

 **1843**

The Leland PD officers were on their post waiting for the gates to open, so Arnold and Helga did a loop of the grounds before returning to the command shack. By that time, the community and school resource deputies, along with Nadine and Ajax, had arrived. Nadine had a K9 demonstration later in the evening as well as a meet and greet for the kids. The community deputies patrolled the grounds and manned an informational booth at the opposite end of the grounds with brochures, pencils, and stickers as well as a patrol car and other examples of department equipment. The sergeants would rotate shifts so that a supervisor was always on duty on the property, and since Helga was the most junior Sergeant, she drew got the first shift. Arnold, also being low on the seniority list, was detailed to man the radio and handle reports specific to the fair detail. Thankfully, although both were supposed to stay at the command shack, there were enough community deputies to allow them to rotate out and take a quick walk down the midway to find something to eat.

Helga grimaced as she shouldered her way through the crowd around the fried dough booth with Arnold following close behind.

"Any idea what you want to eat?" He was nearly yelling to be heard over the din of the crowd, the sound of the rides, and the solicitations of the workers at the game booths.

"There's only one thing worth eating at the fair," she replied.

"And what's that?"

She looked at him over her shoulder. "Criminy, Football Head. You're how old and you don't know where the best food at the fair is?"

Arnold shrugged. "I only came to the fair once or twice as a kid. I usually went to the Cheese Festival."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Figures you'd go to that sappy thing."

"I think you mean 'cheesy,'" he said with a grin.

"I most certainly did _not_. My words were carefully chosen to avoid such a novice pun. Anyway, we're here," she finished with a smile.

Arnold glanced up at the sign. "Gyros?"

"Oh yes. Their cucumber sauce is the _best_."

Arnold frowned. "That doesn't really sound all that special."

"Well when you have some you'll understand. This stuff is amazing. And I have no idea where these guys come from. They never have a card and I can't even find a restaurant with that name on Google." She stepped up to the counter. "Two gyros, if you please."

The worker nodded and quickly assembled their food. He placed them down. "Fifteen," he said simply.

Helga handed the man a $20 bill while Arnold looked back at the sign. "Shouldn't it be twenty even?"

The man handed a five back to Helga and shrugged. "Policia."

"Don't question it, Arnoldo. Gracias, señor."

The man smiled and turned to the next customer. Helga handed Arnold his food. "So, all the guys that work at the Greek food booth are Mexican?"

"Panamanian. Don't question that either, Head Boy. They make damn good food."

Before they could push their way any further through the crowd, Helga heard someone behind her calling over the din.

"Well, if it's not my favorite Deputy Sheriff!"

A smile spread over her face as she turned around and brushed by a confused Arnold. "It's great to see you too, Chief," she said warmly to the man behind her. He was wearing a Leland PD uniform with stars on the collar and a big smile. He looked to be in his early 50s, with black hair graying at the temples and hazel eyes. Despite his age and the noticeable paunch he carried around his middle, he seemed to exude a youthful energy. The man held his arms wide despite the sea of people moving around, as if inviting the deputies to approach. Which Helga did, Arnold in tow. As she got close he lowered his arms and reached out firmly shake Helga's hand. Helga turned to Arnold, who was watching the exchange curiously.

"Chief Vogt, this is Arnold Shortman. Arnold, this is Chief Martin Vogt. He was the Director of the academy the year I went through. He's the reason I'm a cop."

The Chief's smile didn't waver as he extended his hand to Arnold and enveloped his hand in a firm handshake.

Arnold returned the man's smile. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"And you too, Deputy. But please, call me Martin. No need to formalities if you're not one of my officers. And don't let Miss Pataki fool you. She was going to be a cop whether I was director or not. It's in her blood."

Helga snorted but her smile remained in place. "Bullshit, Chief. You know I was ready to quit until you had your chat with me."

Vogt waved his hand dismissively. "Bah. You're not the type that gives up, Helga. Your angry stare actually scared the Drill Instructors."

The Chief looked at Arnold. His gaze was intense, and it caught Arnold off-guard. He felt as though the man was evaluating him, taking in his body language and his facial expression, and forming an opinion. "You know, I thought you'd be taller."

Arnold gave him a confused look. "Pardon?"

"You're the one that stopped that shooter, right? I thought you'd be taller. I mean, Helga here is tall woman. I'm surprised you went for someone shorter than you, Miss Pataki."

Now it was Helga's turn to look surprised as she blushed slightly. "Uh, what?"

The Chief bellowed a laugh. "I've been a cop for 35 years, kids. I can tell what's going on here." He turned his full attention back to Helga and his expression softened as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Arnold was surprised that Helga not only allowed it but didn't even flinch. "I'm sorry I wasn't there while you were in the hospital. I was in New York for a conference and I couldn't get away," he said as softly as the crowd would allow.

Helga smiled but her blush remained. "I got the flowers. It's fine. How are the kids? Where's Hailey going in the fall?"

Vogt's smile returned. "Duke! Can you believe it? She got a full ride on a soccer scholarship."

"That's great. And Paul is graduating this year, or next?"

"This year. I'll soon have an empty nest." He shook his head sadly. "But Julia and I are taking a long vacation when he finally goes off to college."

"That's great, Chief. You deserve a break. The campaign's going well?"

"Very well," Vogt said. He shifted his gaze to Arnold. "With any luck, I'll be your new boss come the new year."

Before Arnold could answer, his radio began to crackle. "Fair Command to Pataki. Respond back to the Command post."

Helga let out a sigh. "Duty calls, Chief. It was great to see you."

"Of course, of course. It was great to see you too. And congratulations on the promotion, _Sergeant_ Pataki." He slapped her shoulder fondly before turning to offer his hand to Arnold. "Nice to you meet you, Arnold. Keep an eye on this one. She's a handful."

Arnold smiled and gave Helga a side-long glance. "I'm very well aware of that, sir."

"Okay, okay. That's enough. Move it, Deputy. We're on the clock here and we're not getting paid to yap away." Helga put her hand on Arnold's shoulder and turned him around. "See ya, Chief." The Chief let out another laugh before making his way to gyro booth himself.

* * *

 **2227**

Helga kicked Arnold's feet off the desk, tearing him away from a rousing game of Candy Crush. "Let's go, Football Head. Grab your hat."

Arnold slowly got up. "Uh, what exactly are we doing?"

Helga smiled cruelly. "Beer tent evictions, bucko. Might wanna put your patrol gloves on. The drunks can get a little… slippery."

Arnold stood up and followed, donning his hat and pulling his gloves out of his back pocket. Helga was already geared up as she walked out of the command shack. She interlocked her fingers and cracked them and straightened her back. A half dozen State officers were already outside on her right, along with a pair of Leland PD officers. Helga had Arnold, Rhonda, Patty, Sid, Nadine, and Ajax. The State sergeant walked over while pulling on his own gloves.

"First night of fun, eh Pataki?"

Helga snorted. "Are you a sadist or a masochist? Only one or the other finds this shit _fun._ "

The sergeant chuckled and shook his head. "Pataki stop using those two-dollar words."

"That criminal justice degree isn't cuttin' it, huh?"

"Use that lit degree at a lot of burglary scenes, do ya?"

Helga cracked a smile for the first time in the conversation. "Nope. Ready to wrangle some cats?"

"That'd be easier than wrangling the drunks. First night, honor goes to county."

"Benny, if this is what counts as flirting over at the barracks, you gotta work on your game."

"Bullshit Pataki. You love a good fight."

Helga shrugged. "Guilty." She turned to her deputies. "We're up first. Push 'em out, State will corral them toward the exit. Don't let 'em get handsy."

The tent was less a tent and more a pavilion. The entrance was a gate about ten feet wide and the pavilion itself was filled with picnic tables. A bar ran down the left side of the building and the entire area was enclosed with a chain link fence to keep the underaged out and the inebriated in. The Deputies entered through a gate at the back of the pavilion and formed a line along the fence. Helga stood in the center, crossed her arms, and put on her best scowl. Patty waved at the bartender and the music stopped.

"Bar's closed!" Helga yelled. "Everyone out!"

The majority of the crowd obeyed, and the deputies began following them toward the door. A straggler here and there needed a little encouragement, but after being turned around and gently nudged in the right direction they obeyed.

It was the two still at the bar that were going to be trouble. The first was short and skinny with shaggy, dirty-blond hair and an equally shaggy beard. The second was tall, broad, and muscular with a shaved head.

"Who brought the bitch patrol?" the skinny man slurred.

"I did," Helga said as she walked up behind him. "Let's go. You're cut off."

"Hey, fuck you. We're just tryina have a good time," the bigger man said.

"You've got thirty seconds before I arrest you for trespassing, capiche?"

Helga placed a hand on the skinny man's shoulder. The man spun around and slapped her arm away. "You can't fuckin' touch me."

Helga rolled her eyes. "We're going for obstruction too? Should we add resisting? I'll just stack the charges, you can tell me when to stop."

As Patty walked up, the skinny man pushed Helga with both hands. Patty reached for one of his arms, but the second man drove a shoulder into her, causing her to stumble. Patty glared at the big man and squared up while Helga hooked her arm through the first man's armpit, put a hand on his shoulder, twisted around, and dumped him face first on the ground. They began to roll as Sid came over and pushed the man's face into the dirt floor. Patty's opponent drunkenly wound up for a punch but missed his target. Instead, he stumbled forward. Patty stuck her leg in front of his and gave his back a push, causing him to trip and end up on the floor. The man cursed and started to scramble back up when he came eye to eye with Ajax, the very agitated Belgian Malinois. He froze and slowly raised his hands in surrender while Sid and Helga finished restraining his compatriot. Patty and Arnold grabbed the bigger man's arms and roughly pulled them behind his back.

A dusty and angry Helga dragged her suspect to his feet by grabbing the chain on his cuffs. The man yelped in pain as she shoved him toward the gate. The drunkard looked at the State sergeant. "You see what this bitch did to me?"

The sergeant shrugged. "Last year she broke some guy's arm."

The drunk stammered while Helga shot the sergeant a smirk. The State officer touched the brim of his Stetson in salute as Helga pushed her suspect into the wall of the command shack. "Stop squirming or you're gonna eat the pavement."

"Yeah, you think you're tough shit when I'm in these cuffs, don't ya, _girl_."

Helga rolled her eyes as she unlocked the door to the shack. "I may be the girl, but the only Nancy I see here is you. Now stop whining like a bitch and get in there." Helga shoved him through the door and sat him down in the chair that made for their booking bench. She pulled out a fingerprint card and let out a sigh as she prepared for at least another hour of processing and arraignments.

* * *

 **0123, August 25**

By the time they had fueled and washed their patrol car, turned in their paperwork, and Helga had changed back into her street clothes, Arnold and Helga were both exhausted. They staggered slowly back to their personal cars in the office parking lot silently. It wasn't until they had finally put their equipment away that Arnold finally spoke.

"No offense Blue, but I don't think I'm gonna come over tonight."

"Don't sweat it, Arnoldo. I'm just gonna pass out as soon as I take a shower. I hate the fair."

"I can see why. You're off tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah."

"So am I. You wanna do something?"

"Sure. What'd you have in mind?"

"I hadn't really thought it through." They were silent for a moment before making eye contact again. "Fair?"

"Fair."

"Pick you up at five?"

"Sure."

Arnold gave her a quick peck on the cheek before they got in their respective cars and drove home. He walked slowly into his apartment and flopped face first on his bed, still in his uniform. He considered staying in that position and falling asleep until his phone dinged with a message. He groaned and fished his phone out of his pocket.

Helga: **If you're dragging me back to that crazy place tomorrow, you'd better win me a stuffed animal. Something big. Sleep well, Football Head**

Arnold smiled. He closed his eyes and thought about which carnival game he would have to play as he drifted off to sleep, still holding his phone and still fully dressed.


	58. Chapter 57 - County Fair Pt 2

**Third Wheel**

 **August 25, 1622**

Arnold was tying his shoes when his phone rang. He answered without checking the caller ID and went back to tying his shoes. "Hello?"

"Football Head, I've got a problem."

"I'm doing well, and you?" he replied.

"Yeah, yeah, how are you. Listen, with the all the craziness yesterday, I forget I told Sam I'd bring her to the fair. I know we wanted a day to ourselves, but I promised her-"

"Helga, it's fine," he interrupted. "Honestly, it might even make it more fun since it's not spoiled for her the way it is for us."

"Thanks, Arnoldo. You're the best. I'm gonna go pick her up, but we'll be here waiting for you by five."

"Alright, I'll see you soon."

* * *

 **1734**

The second and final night of the demolition derby always attracted a big crowd, and this was no exception. Helga fully understood why. The second night always involved the minivan division, which for some reason was always hilarious and entertaining. Minivans could take a beating and keep moving, which went a long way to explaining their popularity for families. Despite her excitement for the show, Helga kept her scowl firmly in place as they shouldered their way through the crowd gathered around the main gate. The last thing she wanted was to appear approachable if they happened to run into someone she had arrested in the past. Considering that the Fair seemed to attract every petty criminal in the county, the chances that would happen were significant. As they made their way through the throng of people at the entrance, Helga steered the trio toward an open area near the midway so that they could catch their breath and figure out a plan.

"Alright, Sammy, this is your day. What do you want to do first?"

"Food," the teen responded without hesitation. "Definitely food."

Arnold laughed. "I can see why you two get along so well."

"You of all people should know that a hungry Helga is a hangry Helga. And the munchkin here is a growing girl. She's as tall as you, Head Boy."

That much was true. Sam had been tall the first time he met her, but now she easily equaled his modest 5'7". She hadn't grown into her height yet and was still gangly and a little awkward, but Arnold imagined Helga was probably the same at her age. And in his eyes, Helga had clearly become a beautiful woman. Arnold could only hope that Sam's connection with Helga would give her a better childhood than Helga's had been. Arnold hoped one day Helga would open up to him about what her childhood had been like, but he could certainly infer some things from her current family life and things said in passing. He certainly doubted Olga had ever taken a teen or tween Helga to the fair. Or if she had, she probably hadn't let Helga set the agenda.

They made their way over to the food booths and began exploring their options. Helga always had a hard time convincing herself to get anything other than a gyro, but Arnold and Sam looked at everything that was on offer. Sam opted to follow Helga to gryo stand, but Arnold decided to go to the Elk Island Fire Company booth and get an enormous meatball and pepperoni 'sub,' though sub was perhaps a misnomer. A half-loaf of bread was hollowed out to make a bowl into which the meatballs, pepperoni, and sauce were heaped. The line for Arnold's booth was longer than the gryo booth, allowing Helga and Sam a few minutes alone at a picnic table. Helga's gaze wandered toward Arnold as he stood in line.

"You like him a lot, don't you?"

"Huh?" Helga looked back at Sam, who was smiling at her. "Oh, uh, yeah. I guess you could say that."

Sam looked back at her food and picked at it with her fork. "Soooo…." she said without looking up. "How, um. How do you tell a guy you like him?"

Helga choked on her soda. "Sam, I've told you this before. No dating until you're 21." She looked at the girl who was still staring at her food forlornly. Helga sighed. "What's his name?"

"Jake," Sam said.

"Well, I'm probably the last person you should be asking that."

Sam finally looked up. "Why? How'd you tell Arnold?"

Helga averted her eyes. "I kinda yelled it at him after he almost got stabbed by a crazy person."

Sam's eyes went wide. "Uh, yeah, I think I'll do something different."

"So, why do you like him?"

Sam shrugged and looked back at her gyro. "He's cute. He likes Imagine Dragons. I dunno, I just… _like_ him, you know?"

Helga looked back at Sam, who still looked shy and uncomfortable. Helga cocked an eyebrow. "He's cute and he likes the same band as you? Is that it?" Sam shrugged and continued eating her food. Helga leaned forward. "I think you're leaving something out. I know you, Sammy, and you're not that shallow."

"I dunno, he's just really nice. Like, when I dropped my books one day he helped me pick them up and then he walked me to class. He's on the debate team and he's really smart. He plays soccer…" Sam finally looked up at Helga, who was clearly fighting hard not to smile. "I shouldn't have said anything," she grumbled.

"Sam, you _hate_ soccer," Helga said, her smile getting the best of her.

Sam smiled. "Not when he plays," she said softly.

"Kid, you're as hopeless as I am," Helga said with a chuckle.

Sam gave her a confused look. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I was the same way with Football Head over there. Look, as long as this Jake kid is a good person, you should just say something to him. Maybe not just come out with 'Hey, I like you, be my boyfriend,' but maybe just ask him to hang out sometime as friends. Do you have any classes with him this coming year?"

"I should."

"Then maybe you can study together or something. But you're only 13. Don't go crazy. Like I said, you're too young for dating. 21. That's the magic number. Only eight years to go. And what exactly brought this on? You've been out of school for months and you don't go back until next week."

"We have some of the same friends. I saw him at the city pool yesterday. We talked for a little bit."

"Well, just keep talking to him. Be his friend. If you're not compatible as friends, you're not going to work as anything else."

"Yeah, I guess."

Helga caught sight of Arnold as he made his way over to the table. "We'll continue this talk later, young lady. You're not off the hook yet. This Jake fellow needs to meet with my approval."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, okay."

"Sorry that took so long," Arnold said. He looked between the two girls and noticed that Sam still looked flush while Helga was clearly trying to conceal a smile. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Just talking about boys, Football Head. Nothing _you_ would know anything about."

Arnold frowned as Sam giggled.

* * *

 **2007**

The demolition derby always drew a strange crowd. It had some sort of visceral appeal across social and economic lines, and it would not be uncommon to see farmers, suburbanites, blue collar city workers, and a couple in inexplicably fancy attire all sitting on the same row of aluminum benches in the grandstand. The minivan division had just finished, and it did not disappoint, at least in Helga's opinion. Much to her chagrin, however, her companions had lost interest in the event and Sam wanted to play some of the carnival games.

They began walking down the midway looking at the various game booths. Sam was looking around trying to figure out which game she wanted to play. She turned quickly to look from one side of the midway to the other when she slammed into someone else and ended up on the ground, rubbing a sore head.

"Sorry, Sam." Sam's heart froze. She looked up slowly and saw gentle, brown eyes looking down at her. The boy extended a hand to help her up.

"H-hi, Jake," she stammered. She took his hand and let him stand her up.

The boy opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a woman's voice. "Oh, honey, are you okay?"

Sam blushed and looked at the woman. "Yes, Mrs. Stevens, I'm fine." Sam brushed herself off, thankful that she hadn't landed in something awful on the ground.

"Jacob, you need to pay more attention to what's going on around you in a crowd like this."

Jake rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I know mom. Thanks." He turned his attention back to Sam. "Who are you here with?"

"She's here with me. Who's asking?" Helga said as she and Arnold caught up to what had happened. Helga's words were challenging but she had a smile on her face.

The boy offered his hand to her. "I'm Jake Stevens."

"Helga Pataki. I'm Sam's…" Helga glanced at Sam, who looked away and seemed embarrassed. She looked back at Jake and shook his hand. "I'm Sam's aunt." Sam looked back at Helga in surprise, but Helga simply winked in return, eliciting a small smile from the girl. "And this is Arnold Shortman."

"I'm Peggy, Jake's mother," the woman next to him said. "Jake's father is here somewhere, but I'm not sure where he wandered off to. I swear, that man needs a leash."

"Mooom," Jake hissed as Helga and Arnold chuckled. Jake turned back to Sam. "Have you played any games yet?"

"Um, no, we were just about to though."

Jake turned to his mother. "Mom, would it be okay if Sam and I went and played some games for a while?"

Peggy looked at Jake, then to Helga. "It's okay with me if it's okay with you."

Helga looked at Sam and almost laughed at the pleading look in her eyes. "It's fine with me, Sammykins. Just meet us at the gate side of the grand stand in an hour, alright?"

Sam smiled broadly and gave Helga a quick hug. "Thanks! I'll be there."

"We'll meet in the same place, Jake. As long as I can find your father…"

Sam turned to follow Jake, but Helga called out to her. "Sam, wait." The girl turned around as Helga dug a few bills out of her pocket. "Here's twenty bucks. Spend it however you want." Sam smiled again and nodded and ran off to follow Jake.

"She's such a sweet young girl. Shame about her mother." Peggy turned to Helga and eyed her carefully. "So, you're Sam's aunt?"

Helga chuckled. "No, Sam's in the Big Sister program. But I didn't want to take a chance of embarrassing her in front of her friend, so being the cool aunt seemed better."

Peggy smiled. "Well, I'm sure Jake wouldn't mind, but Sam probably appreciates it. I'll leave the two of you alone. I need to find my husband anyway. Most wives would probably install a tracking app to make sure their husbands aren't cheating, but I put one on his phone because he's easily distracted by shiny things. It was a pleasure to meet you both." Peggy shook their hands again and pulled out her phone as she wandered back toward the farm animal pavilions.

"Well," Arnold said after Peggy had walked out of earshot. "What now?"

"Since we apparently don't have the kids tonight, I suppose we have an hour for our own date."

Arnold smiled at her. "Games?"

Helga smirked back. "Games."

The two turned and looked at the midway, trying to decide which game to try first.

"How about that one?" Helga asked as she pointed to a booth.

Arnold groaned. "Of _course,_ you pick the one with a gun."

Helga grinned. "What's wrong? Don't think you can beat me?"

Arnold raised an eyebrow at her. "I was under the impression that I was supposed to _win_ you something, not be your constantly defeated opponent."

Helga waved a hand dismissively at him. "You can win me something after. But first I need to exert my superiority."

"That's a surprise," Arnold muttered.

Helga shot him a look. "I heard that."

They made their way to a booth with an automatic air gun shaped like an old Tommy gun. Helga put a dollar on the table, which the carnival work took greedily. He loaded a tube of lead BBs into the gun and put a target on the range. Helga handed the gun to Arnold. "You first, Head Boy."

"Whatever you say Helga. What am I supposed to do, anyway?"

"You have to shoot all of the colored paper out of the star. If there's any left, you lose."

"I feel like this is extremely hard to do."

Helga shrugged. "Wouldn't be a carnival game if everyone would win."

Arnold leaned onto the counter and started shooting. He put dozens of holes in the paper, but the star still had most of its color when he finally ran out of BBs. The carney put the target in front of him. "Try again, bud?" he asked through nicotine-stained teeth.

"Nah, it's my turn," Helga said. She handed the carney another dollar and picked up the gun. "The secret is controlled bursts, Football Head." Helga pumped the trigger, firing a handful of BBs at a time. She carefully stitched around the edges of the star. By the time she had run out of BBs, all of the red had been blasted out of the center.

"Whatchu want for a prize?" the now surly carney asked.

Helga turned to Arnold with a satisfied smile on her face. "I dunno, which do you want, sweetums?"

Arnold grinned back. "The smallest one you got, since I know I'm going to be the one that ends up carrying it."

Helga ruffled his hair. "I don't care what they say about you. You're no dummy."

Arnold collected the cheaply made teddy bear and they continued down the midway. They played several other games, and Helga's victories mounted, as did Arnold's load of junk toys and his frustration. He knew Helga was competitive, but he still wanted to win _something_ for her. _What kind of lame boyfriend can't win a single carnival game?_ he thought.

"One more, Football Head?"

Arnold was taken out of his thoughts by the question. He sighed. "Yeah, sure Helga. How about the football toss over there?" He didn't wait for an answer and walked to the booth.

Helga watched him, her self-satisfied smirk disappearing from her face. _What is wrong with me? He just wants to win something for me and I can't let him because I'm too damn proud. It's time for the ego to take a back seat. He can have this one._

They walked up to the booth that had a hole cut in a tarp that was slightly wider than the football. The game was $2 per ball, or 3 balls for $5, and the prizes got bigger if the player got two or three balls through the holes.

Helga nudged Arnold and pointed to the holes. "I don't think your head is gonna fit through that, bucko." She said.

Arnold looked at her, feeling irritated until he saw the look on her face. She was smiling at him, but it wasn't the haughty smile she had worn most of the night as she had beaten him at every game. Instead, it was warm, soft, and full of affection. He smiled despite himself. "I think you're right. Ladies first, my dear."

Helga took the ball from Arnold's hand. She squared up her stance, cocked her arm back, and threw a great spiral. The ball sailed straight through the hole. Her initial impulse was to cheer until she remembered that she had fully intended to let Arnold win this one. _You idiot! This is the hardest game you've played all night and you just took one up on him. You need to blow the next two and hope against hope he can get at least one._ Helga tossed her next two, making them close but missing the hole. She turned the position over to Arnold and held her breath as he took his stance.

Arnold wound up and put his first throw dead center through the hole. Helga released the breath and relaxed. _Oh, thank God._ Arnold wound up and threw the second ball. Helga smiled as it, too, sailed through the center. _You win, Arnoldo._ Arnold's third toss also hit the mark, and Helga laughed. "Nice job, bucko."

Arnold smiled. "Which one do you want?"

Helga tapped a finger to her chin as she studied the ridiculously over-sized stuffed animals. "Hmm. How about the giraffe?"

Arnold pointed to the huge giraffe and the rather unhappy carnival worker handed it over. Arnold turned around and in turn gave it to Helga. She smiled broadly as she wrapped her arms around it. She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "My hero." _This is way better than winning it myself._

Arnold laughed and kissed her lightly on the lips. "That's for accepting it so graciously." He poked her side and tickled her, causing her squeal. "And that's for letting me win."

Helga looked at him with wide eyes. "How'd you-"

"I know you better than you think, my dear." He brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "But, thanks."

"Anytime, Football Head." _Oh God, if we weren't in public I would make out with you so hard right now._

Arnold took the giraffe back, causing Helga to pout. "We're going to be late meeting Miss Samantha if we don't leave soon."

"Yeah, yeah. That whole 'responsible for a teenager thing.'"

The two wandered over to the grand stand and found Peggy along with Jake's father, Hank, already waiting.

"Found your missing person, huh?" Helga asked.

"I wasn't lost," Hank insisted. "I just really wanted a milk shake. Have you had the milk shakes from the milk booth? They're the only thing worth coming here for."

"Yes, I found Hank. Thank you."

Jake and Sam reappeared. Sam was hugging a stuffed skunk tightly to her chest as they chatted excitedly. Sam spotted Helga and ran up to her. "Helga, Jake won me a skunk!"

"Did he now?" Helga gave Jake a sidelong glace and saw the boy blush. "Well, good on ya, Jakey."

Sam spotted Arnold's huge haul of animals and her jaw fell open. "Did he win you all of those?"

Helga began rubbing her elbow. "Um, well I kinda won most of them." She snagged the giraffe from Arnold's hands. "But he won me this one."

Sam smiled. "It's cute. I mean, not as cute as my skunk, but I like it."

"Well, unfortunately I have to ask you to say goodnight to your friend, because we need to get you home or your dad will kill me."

Sam's smile faded slightly as she turned back to Jake. "I had a fun time. Thanks for inviting me to hang out."

"Uh, yeah, I had fun too. I'll see you at school next week, right?"

"Yeah, you bet."

The two stood and looked at each other awkwardly. "Well, goodnight Jake."

"Yeah, goodnight." The two turned and started walking their own ways. Sam had almost made it to the gate when she heard Jake call out. "Hey, Sam?"

She turned slowly, still clutching her skunk. "Yeah?"

Jake jogged over to her. "Can I, uh… can I give you my number?"

Sam's eyes grew wide and she bit her lip. She stood completely still.

"Sam would love your number," Helga said. She nudged the girl with her elbow. "Wouldn't you?"

Sam blinked and finally came back to reality. "Uh, yes. Yes!" She quickly reached in her pocket and fished out her phone, clumsily entering her code to unlock it. "Um, let me text you. Then you'll have mine too."

Jake gave her the number and they exchanged texts before bidding one another goodnight yet again. As Sam turned around to head back to their car, Helga couldn't help but notice the enormous smile on her face, or her death grip on the poor skunk.


	59. Chapter 58 - Contrast

**Contrast**

 **September 5, 1147**

Gerald was walking into McDonald's when his phone rang. "Hello?" he answered without looking at the caller ID.

"Geraldo, it's Helga."

"What's up Pataki?"

"I need you to head to the address I'm going to text you a minute and secure the scene, ASAP."

Gerald frowned. "Do I have time to order my Big Mac?"

"Sorry, but not today Gerald. This is important." Helga's voice was dead serious, without a hint of sarcasm or anger. _She's a serious as a heart attack,_ he thought.

"Alright, I'm on my way."

"Thanks, Gerald. I'll have Arnold head over to help you."

"Can I ask what's going on?"

There was a moment of hesitation. "Train versus pedestrian accident with a fatality. Looks like suicide, but this guy can't drive and he's twelve miles from home. We need to get evidence techs into that apartment."

"Roger that. I'm on my way."

"Dispatch already knows I'm sending you. Just let me know when you get there."

"Will do." Gerald ended the call and jogged out of the restaurant.

* * *

 **1203**

Gerald waited at the entryway to the run-down apartment building as Arnold jogged over to him.

"Have you been in there yet?" Arnold asked.

Gerald shook his head. "Nah. Figured I'd wait for you, just in case. You ready?"

"Sure. We're not going into the apartment, right? Just securing."

"That's my understanding."

The two deputies entered the building and climbed the rickety, crooked staircase within. As they crested the staircase, Gerald looked at the apartment door they were looking for and groaned. "Fuck."

"What is it?" Arnold asked from behind him.

"Door is cracked open." Gerald activated his radio microphone. "One three three to Sheriff's Office. Open door at our last. We'll be conducting a search, request radio silence."

The dispatcher acknowledged him as he and Arnold both drew their handguns. Gerald entered first into a large living room. The room was completely devoid of furniture but had a dozen large garbage bags that appeared to be full of cans and bottles for recycling. Gerald signaled to the hallway to the right. Arnold nodded and proceeded down the hallway toward the bedroom while Gerald went to the left into the kitchen. Gerald activated the light on his pistol and started checking the kitchen.

He was wholly unprepared for the floor to be completely covered in dried blood. He froze in the doorway and quickly swept the rest of the room with his light, looking for a body. Finding none, he called back to his partner.

"Arnold! I need you in here right now!"

Arnold came jogging down the hallway. "What's going-oh dear God. Is there someone down in here?"

Gerald shook his head. "I didn't see anyone, but there's a room off the left here. The light's on but the door is closed. Cover me while check it."

Arnold nodded and kept his post, covering the parts of the kitchen that had not yet been cleared. Gerald carefully stepped around the dried blood and stood to the side of the doorway. He looked at Arnold, who nodded again, and pushed the door open. The door opened into a small bathroom with a tub on the left wall. It was partially filled with water. It also contained a toaster that was plugged into a power strip. The power strip had charring around the outlet that the toaster was plugged into but appeared to have tripped its internal breaker. A note sat next to the strip. "I'm not bad" was scribbled on it.

"Jesus, Arnold, this guy tried to commit suicide _twice_ in the apartment." Gerald turned back to Arnold but saw that his friend was shining his light on the refrigerator. "I'm not bad" was written on the door twice. In blood.

"Gerald, we need to get out of this place before we contaminate the scene."

Gerald nodded slowly. "I'm right there with you, buddy." The two deputies carefully made their way back to the door and closed it behind them. Gerald activated his radio. "One three three to zero one zero. Contact my cell as soon as you're able. We have a… situation here."

Gerald's phone rang shortly after. "Whatcha got, Geraldo?"

"We had an open door when we got here so we searched the apartment."

"Anyone inside?"

"Uh, no. Helga… there's blood all over the place and a tub with water and a toaster in it."

"Fuck. Secure the door. No one in or out. I'll get the evidence team over there. Tape it off and start a personnel log. I'll contact the detectives and we'll get some suits over there to start doing interviews. Definitely no bodies in there?"

"We didn't find any, but we didn't exactly check in the cabinets and closets. Once we cleared the main rooms, we got out right away. We didn't want to contaminate the scene any more than we did."

"No, that was the right move. Definitely seems to support the suicide angle. Anything else?"

Gerald gulped. "Yeah. He wrote 'I'm not bad' on the fridge. In what I'm pretty sure is his own blood."

The line was silent for so long that Gerald thought the call had been dropped. Finally, Helga spoke again. "That's… I don't even know what to say about that."

"Me neither. Just let me know when everyone's supposed to get here."

"You got it. Thanks Gerald."

Gerald hung up without saying anything else. He looked down at the floor instead of at Arnold. "You wanna stay here while I get the crime scene tape?"

"Sure. You alright?" Arnold asked.

Gerald took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I will be."

* * *

 **1322**

The evidence collection team arrived. The two deputies recorded every person that entered, what time, and why. The technicians arrived and began to don their equipment for collecting evidence. Booties over their shoes, gloves, evidence bags, cameras. Gerald leaned on the railing near the staircase, not paying any attention to the team and instead lost in his own thoughts.

"Hello Gerald," a demure voice said behind him.

Gerald jumped slightly before turning around. "Hey Phoebs."

"Arnold said you found the… scene."

"Yeah. And now that I know who this guy is-was," he corrected himself. "I'm even less okay with it." Gerald sighed. "He was harmless, Phoebs. He never hurt anyone. I used to see him when I work security details at Social Services." A slight smile tugged at Gerald's lips. "He had this key chain. It was old, and ratty. Falling apart. It was from Portland PD. He said he had an uncle who worked there, and his uncle gave it to him." His smile disappeared. "He loved cops, said he always wanted to be one, but he had the mind of child. The other guys hate him, because he's always trying to talk to them and he's… I dunno, he's weird. Creepy, even. But he never hurt anyone."

Gerald slammed a fist on the railing. "I was talking to the neighbor in that apartment. She said he was taking some of his bottles to get recycled yesterday. Some of the neighborhood kids saw him and started calling him names. They called him a child molester. Right to his damn face. They made fun of him, called him names, and accused him of being a monster. And the worst part… You wanna know the worst part?"

Phoebe said nothing and looked at him expectantly. Gerald continued, his anger growing. "The worst part is, his friend over there," Gerald gestured to a man at the bottom of the stairs. The man was giving Arnold a statement through his sobs. "His friend says that this guy was a _victim_ of sexual abuse as a kid. That's probably why he never advanced mentally. He was stuck in time. Stuck when some fucking monster ruined his life. And then some ignorant neighborhood kids that didn't know what they were doing accused him of being the very thing that destroyed his mind." Gerald looked Phoebe in the eyes for the first time. She could see tears gathering there. "He couldn't deal with it. He couldn't handle people thinking that he was the monster that ruined him. So, he tried to kill himself. Only he failed. Not once, but twice." A tear finally escaped and rolled down his cheek. "Three strikes and you're out, I guess."

Phoebe didn't say anything but simply wrapped her arms around Gerald's waist and squeezed him tight. Gerald closed his eyes and returned her hug. "I'm glad you're here," he whispered.

"Me too," she replied.

* * *

 **1411**

Helga walked up to the entrance of the apartment where Arnold was standing his post with a clipboard.

"What a mess, Football Head," she muttered as she approached.

"Yeah, well, you haven't seen the apartment. It was a disaster in there."

Helga sighed. "Arnoldo, I had the scene where the guy got hit by a _train_. I think that was at least as messy if not more." She looked up the darkened stairs. "This is a bad one, Arnold. One of the most depressing I've seen."

Arnold nodded. "Yeah, it's… it's pretty terrible."

Helga made her way past him as he entered her name and the time into the access log. She was gone a few minutes before returning. She looked even more pale than usual. "You were right. It's a disaster in there."

Arnold looked into her eyes. "Would… would you like to come over tonight? Please?"

Helga smiled. "I'd love to."

Helga reached out and squeezed his hand before walking back to her patrol car.

* * *

 **2154**

Helga got up and kissed Arnold quickly on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow?" she asked.

Arnold stared at the floor for a moment. Helga frowned. _Did I do something wrong?_ "Arnold?"

Arnold looked at her and scratched the back of his neck. "Would you like to stay tonight?"

She smiled at him. "Thanks for the invite, but I don't want to make you sleep on the couch again. And I know you would because you _never_ let me sleep on the couch, Mr. Chivalry."

Arnold's face flushed slightly. "Well, I was thinking maybe we could, uh, both share the bed." He smiled meekly. "I mean, you know, just sharing the bed. No funny business or anything. I'd just… really like to spend the night next to you." He looked down at the floor again with a sheepish expression on his face.

Helga's eyes widened in shock. _Oh God, he's asking to sleep with me! Well, maybe not_ that _kind of sleep with him, but he wants to spend the night in the same bed! What do I say? I have nothing to wear to bed. Maybe he'd let me wear his clothes? That would be a dream come true. Oh no, he's waiting for an answer. Say something, you dummy!_

She crossed her arms and smirked at him. "Only if I can borrow a shirt, Arnoldo."

A smile spread across his face. "Of course. Whatever you want."

They both went into Arnold's bedroom and Arnold began rooting through his drawers. He pulled out his academy workout shirt with his name printed on the back and tossed it to Helga. "Will this work?"

"Perfect," she said as she turned around. Before Arnold could say anything, Helga had already pulled her shirt off and was unclasping her bra. He stared at her back, frozen. She dropped the undergarment and pulled the shirt on before turning back to Arnold. "How do I look?" she asked as she posed in the ill-fitting, baggy shirt.

 _Sexy as fuck,_ Arnold thought. He broke himself out of his stupor and smiled. "Fantastic."

"Excellent." She unbuttoned her pants and dropped them on the floor, revealing a pair of gray boyshort underwear. Arnold was pretty sure his face was nearly purple before he averted his eyes. Helga jumped in the bed and pulled the covers up. "You coming or are you gonna stand there looking like a beet all night?" she asked, finishing with a flutter of her eye lashes.

"Um, right." He briefly considered putting on sweat pants, but he decided in that moment to be bold. _If she can be in her underwear, then so can I_. He took off his own pants, revealing his plaid boxers and quickly climbed in the bed with her. It was her turn to blush. "I guess we can be beets together," he said with a chuckle. Helga rolled over to look at him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

"Goodnight, Football Head. And remember, no funny business tonight."

"I'm hurt that you think I'd besmirch your honor so."

Helga rolled her eyes and laid on her side facing away from him. _Okay, Hair Boy. Now's your chance to be the big spoon._ Her breath caught in her throat as she felt him roll over behind her and press his chest into her back. It took every ounce of self-control she had to avoid squealing in delight. _Arnold is spooning me in bed!_ She considered it a big step for a woman so fearful of intimacy the way she was. Arnold placed a hand on her hip and she jumped.

"Sorry," he said. He quickly removed his hand, placing it on her shoulder. She reached up with her own hand and interlaced her fingers with his before pulling his hand around her and resting it on her chest. He flinched.

Helga laughed. "Relax, Arnoldo. They're just boobs, they don't bite."

"I-I know. But you said no funny business, so- "

"Arnold, if I didn't want your hand there, I wouldn't have _put_ it there. But that's as far as we go tonight, okay?"

"Whatever you say, Helga," he said as he reveled in the faint smell of her shampoo.

 **A/N: Much as I hate to say it, the suicide call is entirely real. The only part I'm not 100% on is whether or not he was a victim of a sex crime. But that was the rumor. My partner and I were the ones that found the apartment. He cleared the bedroom. I found the horror show that was the kitchen. I also had to take the statements from his friends.**

 **I almost forgot to mention, in my home state, there's a deposit on recyclable bottles and cans. You get 5 cents back for each one. I realize only a handful of states do this, so people may be confused as to why he would waste his time collecting them.**

 **I'm also pretty sure every guy thinks it's the sexiest thing ever when a woman wears his shirt to bed.**


	60. Chapter 59 - Training

**Training**

 **September 12, 0800**

"But why me, Eltee _?"_ Helga stood in Lieutenant Simmons' closet-sized office staring at the training notice that he had just handed her.

"Because you're one of the smartest people in the agency, and the youngest sergeant. Standing up this team is going to take a lot of work and I think you can handle it."

"But _drones_? I don't know the first thing about drones. Other than they look expensive and easy to break."

"Well that's why you're not going to the training alone."

Helga looked up and gave him a worried look. "Oh God, who are you sending with me? Is it Harold? Please tell me it's not Harold. He'll just _eat_ the drone."

Simmons gave her a scolding look. "Helga, go easy on a deputy that's not even here to defend himself. No, you'll be going with Deputy Shortman."

 _Okay, maybe it won't be so bad spending a night halfway across the state then._

"Before you get too carried away with that, you have separate rooms. And since this is a work trip, I fully expect you both to _use_ them, Sergeant." Her scowl returned. She had to tell them about her involvement with Arnold to prevent him from getting assigned to her squad.

"Eltee," she whined. "I'm not going to get myself in any trouble with Shortman. He's a by-the-book kind of guy. He wouldn't let it happen even if I wanted it to, which I don't." _Oh boy, is_ that _a lie for the ages,_ she thought.

"It had better not, Sergeant. We appreciate you being honest about your involvement, but I'm sure you know it's still frowned upon. I chose Arnold for this detail because he is solid and dependable, and I think he can handle it, not to satisfy your personal life." Simmons stood up and walked to the door. "However, we have reserved three seats at the training. I'll allow you to choose the third person for your training. You have 'til-"

"Gerald Johanssen," she interrupted.

Simmons blinked. "Well, you don't have to choose right _now_."

"Nope, he's my choice. Give me Gerald. He and Arnold are close friends, they work well together. They'd make a good team."

Simmons smiled. "Okay, that sounds like a plan to me. You can take the school car from the motor pool. You each have your own rooms at the hotel. You'll head out the day before and come back the next day after the class is over."

"You got it, boss."

* * *

 **September 14, 1340**

"I still don't know why you picked me for this, Pataki. I don't know anything about drones." Gerald sat in the back seat with a sour look on his face, his arms crossed.

"Well I don't either, Geraldo, and if I have to suffer through this class then so do you."

Gerald groaned. "Did you really just pick me to make me suffer?"

Helga smirked. "Sure did, bub. Welcome to the drone team."

"I don't know what's wrong with you two. This sounds like it could be a really good program," Arnold said from the passenger seat. "Just think of all the things we could do with a drone."

 _Well at least my football headed love God is excited_ , Helga thought. _And regardless of what the Lieutenant said, I will_ definitely _be sneaking into his room tonight. Which is another reason I picked Geraldo. He'll keep his mouth shut about it._

The drive out to the state training facility took several hours, which passed quickly with Helga and Gerald arguing about nearly everything under the sun, from politics to which radio station they should listen to. Throughout most of it, Arnold simply smiled to himself and shook his head. When they finally arrived at the hotel, Helga took the lead as she had booked the rooms.

"Welcome!" the perky brunette behind the counter said as they walked in. "Checking in?"

 _Isn't that obvious?_ "Yup. Sure are."

"Can I get your name please?"

"Helga G. Pataki." Helga opened her wallet and started to remove her license and police ID. She was interrupted as the clerk handed her a room key. Helga stared at the key for a moment, then looked back at the clerk. "You don't need my ID?"

"Oh no," the woman responded with a smile. "You're in the system as a government reservation. You're all set and enjoy your stay!"

Helga hesitantly took the keys. "Ooookay…" she looked over her shoulder at Arnold and Gerald, both of whom shrugged at her. After they had all received their room keys they proceeded to the elevator. Helga hit the button for the top floor.

The door closed, and Helga immediately turned to her compatriots. "Does it strike either of you as strange that we just walked in and got keys for a Homeland Security reservation without showing _any_ ID at all? I mean, they didn't even ask for a freakin' credit card!"

"Beats me, Pataki," Gerald replied. "I called my bank the other day and they reset my PIN over the phone without making sure I was who I said I was. Security seems to be an afterthought these days."

"Hey, at least it was quick and painless," Arnold added.

Helga crossed her arms and huffed. "For all they know, someone murdered the three of us before we got here and we're all imposters."

"Okay, slightly morbid and weird, Pataki."

"That's sorta my schtick, Geraldo." The doors opened and the three proceeded to their rooms. "Alright, meet back in the lobby in fifteen minutes and we'll go find a place to eat. Savvy?"

Gerald raised an eyebrow. "Are you a pirate now?"

"I'm the captain of _this_ merry trio of misfits, bucko. Fifteen minutes. If you're not there, I'm leaving you and your high tops to fend for yourselves."

Gerald looked offended. "What's wrong with my shoes?"

Helga rolled her eyes. "They were played out in the nineties, bub. I'm surprised they don't light up or have those pumps on them."

Arnold chuckled, and Gerald shot him an accusing look. "Easy man. I _know_ you had yourself some LA Gears that lit up when you were a kid."

"Still funny though. See ya in a few." Arnold entered his room, prompting Helga and Gerald to do the same.

* * *

 **1702**

"I feel like everyone can see my gun," Gerald said as he fidgeted in the back seat.

"That's because they can," Helga stated. "Both of you are printing mighty bad."

Gerald glared at her. "And how do you hide _your_ gun, missy? A Glock 17 would be showing up pretty obviously in your outfit. Are you even _carrying_ your gun?"

Helga turned to him and smiled deviously. "I've got my pink girly gun, bucko. Nice and small so I can dress like I normally do, and it doesn't announce it's presence to the world." She was right. She was wearing a pink flannel shirt and slightly baggy jeans with an inside the waistband holster, but Arnold and Gerald were wearing huge hoodies and cargo pants. Even with the big sweatshirts, their full-size handguns and outside the waistband holsters still jutted out from their hips abnormally. Their outfits screamed "off duty cop" to anyone that was paying attention. And any _good_ criminal would be paying attention. "I'm gonna have to teach you two losers how to dress."

"That's what I need. Fashion lessons from Helga G. Pataki," Gerald mumbled.

"I heard that. I can always put you in touch with Rhondaloid."

Gerald blanched. "Forget I said anything."

"We're here. You two will have to continue your off-duty dress etiquette inside," Arnold said.

They got out of the car and Helga approached Gerald. He started to bring his hands up to defend himself from an anticipated assault, but instead Helga hooked her arm in his. Gerald stood there, stunned.

"C'mon Geraldo. We're going to discuss whether that's a gun in your pocket or if you're just happy to see me."

"Pataki, man, you're weirdin' me out tonight." He looked to Arnold for help, but his friend simply shrugged with a grin on his face as Helga dragged Gerald toward the door to the Cheesecake Factory they had decided to go to for dinner. "You're hangin' me out to dry, aren't you?" he asked.

"Don't talk to Football Head. He's the third wheel tonight, buster. This doesn't make you… uncomfortable does it?" She gave him a coquettish look.

Gerald gulped. "I hate you, Pataki."

Helga cackled, and he definitely did not like the sound of _that_.

* * *

 **1807**

 _Okay, so maybe I was a little harsh on her. Dinner wasn't that bad._ Despite clearly doing her best to make Gerald feel awkward on the way into the restaurant, she had relinquished control of his arm and let him be. They had enjoyed a decent meal and the conversation was civil.

"So, what's for dessert?" he asked.

"Strawberry cheesecake. One hundred percent," Arnold replied. He turned to Helga. "You wanna share?"

"Nope," she said simply as sipped her soda.

"Really? You're _always_ eating junk food. I'd think cheesecake would be right up your alley."

"I've got nothing against cheesecake, Hair Boy. I just can't do the strawberries. You should know that."

Arnold looked genuinely confused. "You can't? Why not? Do they cause a bathroom emergency like raspberries and my grandpa?"

Gerald laughed but Helga gave him an impatient look. "Because I'm _allergic_ , you dunce. Criminy, haven't we talked about this?"

"Uh, no, I don't believe we have. I had no idea."

"Well I am. So, no strawberry-based desserts, fruits, or snacks."

"Wouldn't the only strawberry-based fruit be, you know, strawberries?" Gerald asked.

She wagged a finger at him. "Don't get smart with me, mister. Phoebe's not here to protect you." She checked her watch. "Let's get back to the hotel. Up bright and early tomorrow."

* * *

 **2149**

Helga quietly opened the hotel room door and peered out in the hallway. Then she stuck her head all the way out and looked both ways. The hallway was deserted. She stepped into the hallway and gently closed the door so that it wouldn't make any noise. She tip-toed across the hall to Arnold's door and knocked lightly.

"Hair Boy, it's me. Let me in," she whispered.

A falsetto voice answered her. "Sorry, no 'hair boys' here. Wrong room, my friend!"

She fought to keep a grin off her face. "Just open the door, Arnoldo. I'm standing out here in my pajamas."

The voice answered again. "No Arnoldo. Just us chickens."

Now she was getting annoyed. "Arnold, open the damn door!" she whispered loudly.

The falsetto was gone and replace with straight sarcasm. "You still haven't told me who it is. How do I know I can trust you? I mean, you probably didn't even have to show ID to get in here!"

Helga had enough. "Dammit Shortman!" she yelled. "Open the God damned door before I kick it in, beat you to death with your own shoes, and cuddle with your corpse!"

Helga heard the click of a door lock opening, but it wasn't Arnold's. She turned slowly to see Gerald standing outside his door, his room key in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. She tried to lean casually against the door frame. "'Sup?"

"Evening," he managed.

"How about we just forget everything-" Helga was interrupted as Arnold's door opened and a hand reached out to drag her inside. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Gerald alone in the hallway.

"Mmmm mmmm _mmmm_. That chick is nuts." His phone started to vibrate, and he checked the caller ID. He smiled as he saw Phoebe's picture grace the screen. He entered the room and answered the phone. "Hey sweets."

"Hey there, handsome."

He grinned. He hated to admit it, but he loved it when she called him handsome. "How are you this fine evening?"

"Oh, I'm lovely. How's your trip going?"

Gerald sighed. "The drive out was alright. But I gotta tell ya, that best friend of yours is bonkers."

"Oh? Why is that?"

He set the bucket down on the dresser. "Let's just say that if someone were to make a documentary on Pataki-Shortman mating rituals, it would be both fascinating and nauseating."

Phoebe giggled. "They do have a rather… intense dynamic, don't they?"

"That's one way to put it. There are roller coasters with fewer ups and downs than those two."

"That's just how Helga is. High highs, and low lows. But I wouldn't have her any other way."

Gerald smiled. It was true that Helga and Arnold had some bizarre interactions, but he couldn't deny that even though their lows were sometimes scary, at least the fights he'd seen, their highs were obviously something that made both of them immensely happy. For his part, he was happy with the far more level relationship he and Phoebe had together. He'd come to appreciate Helga, but he could never date someone as quick to anger as she was. Phoebe and Gerald just had a constant level of comfortable contentment. They were happy, they fought but it was never like a Helga-Arnold fight, but they both enjoyed their quiet appreciation for one another.

"Well, I'm just glad they're across the hall so I don't have to hear them getting it on through the wall."

"Gerald!"

"What? I mean, they've _got_ to be sleeping together at this point, right?"

"I… I don't know, actually," Phoebe said with genuine curiosity. "Helga's never talked about them being… intimate. In fact, other kissing, she hasn't really said anything. Has Arnold shared anything with you?"

Gerald thought for a moment. "Come to think of it, no, he hasn't. Maybe they're just canoodling over there."

Phoebe let out an exasperated sigh. "You enjoy that word too much."

Gerald grinned. "That's because I enjoy canoodling _you_ too much."

"Ugh, you're impossible."

"Don't act like you don't love it."

"I love _you_ , you dope."

"I love you too." He smiled sadly. "I'm only gone for one night, but I miss you already. Should I sign up as an evidence tech next time, so we can go to trainings together like the two crazy lovebirds across the hall?"

Phoebe giggled. "I'm not going to argue with you if you do. But I should let you get to bed. You all have a long day tomorrow."

Gerald sighed. She was right. "Alright babe. You have a great night. I'll see you tomorrow night when we get back. Love you."

"Love you too, handsome. And when you get here, we'll do some canoodling."

"Oh you-" She hung up before he could finish his thought.

* * *

 **September 15, 0645**

 _This time we're all_ supposed _to look like cops, at least,_ Helga thought. They all walked up to the training center in their green polo shirts with their embroidered badges, cargo pants with badges clipped on the belts, and their firearms carried in the open. Helga walked up to the reception desk.

"We're here for the drone class."

The man at the desk didn't look up from his magazine. He pointed to the clipboards on the counter. "Sign in and take a student badge. Room 104 is the third one down on the left."

Helga narrowed her eyes as she stood there with her police ID and her license in her hand. "Soooo… just sign in and head down that hall?" she asked skeptically.

The man licked a finger and turned the page. "Yup." He emphasized the 'p' at the end.

 _What the hell is with these people? Three guys with guns walk in a state training facility and no one even wants to verify_ anything?!

The three signed in and walked down to the class room.

"Okay, now I gotta say, I'm _really_ creeped out they didn't check our IDs here," Gerald said.

"These people are all nuts," Helga growled.

They found three seats together in the middle of the room. Arnold sat on the left with Helga in the middle and Gerald on the end. Most of the other attendees were from fire departments and search and rescue organizations, with only a few other cops in the mix.

"I hope the instructor doesn't _drone_ on all day," Gerald said with a self-satisfied smirk.

Helga wheeled on him and put an accusing finger in his face. "Don't."

"What'd I-"

"Do. Not. Only warning, Geraldo. I'm not sitting here while you make bad puns for eight hours."

"Yeah Gerald, that's not even _remotely_ funny," Arnold added with a grin.

"Arnold, I swear to God-"

"Yeah man, that's not gonna _fly_!"

Helga screeched in frustration. "I'm surrounded by idiots!"

"Hey Gerald?"

"Yeah Arnold?"

"She doesn't like our Game of _Drones_."

Helga slammed her head down on the table while both men giggled.

 **A/N: Our office bought a fancy drone, with optical and thermal cameras. Paid $17,000 for the thing. It came in yesterday morning. It was crashed on its first flight (which I thankfully had nothing to do with). It appears the damage is not as bad as was first feared, but it'll take some fixing.**


	61. Chapter 60 - Intimate Conversations

**Intimate Conversations**

 **September 16, 1820**

Phoebe grabbed Arnold by the wrist and dragged him toward the bar. "Let's place the orders, Arnold." As a confused Arnold was led away, Helga and Gerald were left alone at the high top.

"So, Pataki. How's the sex life?"

Helga stared at him, stunned. "Excuse me? Did you really just ask me that?"

Gerald leaned on the table and wiggled his eyebrows. "Well you guys did spend all night together at the training thing." Helga looked down and fidgeted uncomfortably. Gerald frowned. "Seriously? You guys _aren't_ hooking up?"

Helga glared back at him. "I don't see how it's any of your God damned business." She crossed her arms.

He rolled his eyes. "What you two even _do_ together? There's gotta be only so much canoodling a passionate woman like you can take."

"I hate that word. Don't ever say that word to me again."

He pointed at her. "Don't change the subject."

She crossed her arms and looked around nervously, avoiding eye contact. "We, uh, kinda just laid in bed and… um…" she paused before continuing hurriedly and quietly "watched Daria on his laptop."

Gerald's mouth fell open. "The two of you spend all night together just watching '90s cartoons?"

She rubbed her elbow. "Well, and, ya know, canoodling."

Gerald shuddered. "You're right, it's weird when you say that word. It's dead to me now." He sighed. "Listen, it's none of my business what you guys do in the bedroom. But you just need to know that my man Arnold considers himself a gentleman. And he's _such_ a gentleman that he misses a lot of subtle hints. And, you know, obvious hints."

Helga gave him an inquiring look. "How obvious are we talking here?"

"C'mon Pataki. That man's so dense you could run a steam locomotive off a bridge into Clayton Ravine at eighty-eight miles per and it still wouldn't have enough power to penetrate that thick skull of his."

"Just watched Back to the Future 3, huh?"

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well that's a fairly specific scenario, Geraldo. Plus, I think it's Shonash Ravine at that point." She winked at him.

Gerald laughed. "Good point. Anyway, what I was trying to say, is that even if you stood there in your birthday suit, he probably wouldn't get the hint until you started to take _his_ clothes off."

Helga snorted a laugh. "I'll take that under advisement. Now, why don't you tell me about _your_ intimate explorations."

Gerald chuckled. "A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell, my dear Pataki."

Helga smiled deviously and laid her arms on the table while she leaned forward. Gerald's smile faded, and he moved away from her. He suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "You forget, lover boy, that you're dating my best friend. I know all about your feathers and- "

"Ah-ahaha. So, how about those Mets, huh?" Gerald looked around excitedly, hoping no one overheard the conversation.

"Oh, so _my_ sex life is okay, but yours is off limits?" She laughed.

"To be fair, you don't actually _have_ a sex life."

"Whether I do or not is none of your beeswax. And when I decide to change that, you're not exactly going to be the first one I tell about, understood?"

"Pataki, I somehow think I don't want to know what kind of weird shit you'd be into."

* * *

As they waited at the bar to place their orders, Phoebe nudged Arnold in the ribs with her elbow. "So, Arnold, Gerald tells me you and Helga spent the night together at the training," she said with a grin.

Arnold scratched the back of his neck. "Um, well yeah. But it's not like anything happened. We just watched TV shows until we fell asleep."

Phoebe nodded. She knew Helga had some issues with intimacy and even though Helga wouldn't talk about what happened behind closed doors, she could read between the lines. "Did you _want_ anything to happen?"

"Well, I don't know. I mean, I don't want to rush her or anything. She's such a forceful personality I'm sure she'll let me know when she's ready to do… stuff."

"Oh, so just like how she told you from the beginning that she was crazy about you?" Phoebe asked with a glare.

Arnold blushed. "Okay, fair point. Has she said something to you, about, you know… that?"

Phoebe shook her head. "Helga doesn't even really talk about that kind of thing with me. At least not directly. There's some… interpretation required on my part."

A look of panic crossed Arnold's face. "Um, this kinda came up once, and of course she just got mad at me, but is she, uh… I mean, has she ever…"

Phoebe giggled. "She's not a virgin if that's what you're asking."

Arnold sighed in relief. "Oh, good. 'Cause that's kind of a lot of pressure."

"You might just want to take it easy though. She's not all that experienced, either."

"Yeah, well that makes two of us," he mumbled.

Phoebe raised an eye brow before Arnold realized what he said and looked away in embarrassment. Phoebe giggled. "Then your first time will be remarkably awkward."

Arnold stared at her. "Gee, thanks for the encouragement, Pheebs," he said sarcastically.

"And _that_ sounds like Helga's tone of voice. You two must be rubbing off on one another."

Arnold growled in frustration and picked up his drinks.

* * *

 **2257**

Arnold climbed into the bed next to Helga and turned off the light. He settled in and made himself comfortable before she scooted next to him. He chuckled and rolled onto his side while wrapping an arm around her. He kissed her gently on the top of her head.

"Arnoldo, you're not like, I dunno, frustrated with me, are you?" she asked softly.

Arnold was genuinely confused. "Uh, no. Why would I be? Did we have an argument that I missed?"

She rolled over to face him and tapped his nose with her finger. "Not _that_ kind of frustrated, genius."

Arnold gave her a confused look before his eyes widened. "Oh." He smiled. "No, I'm not frustrated with you."

"'Cause, you know, the whole intimacy thing is tough for me."

"You don't say?" He chuckled at her.

"Easy there, bud. I'm trying to open up here. Don't make me go into full Pataki mode on you."

"I'm sorry. I do appreciate that you're talking about it. Let me guess, you and Gerald had a conversation at the bar tonight."

She gave him a puzzled look. "How'd you figure that out?"

"I'm a good cop?" She grabbed the pillow from behind her head and smacked him in the face with it. "Oof, okay, okay. Because Phoebe had a similar chat with me."

Helga laughed. "I wish I could've seen your face when she brought _that_ up."

"I'm sure it wouldn't have been better than yours when Gerald brought it up with you. You're not exactly a chatty Kathy about your personal life, and don't think I haven't noticed that he has a certain way to get under your skin that even I can't match."

"Oh, it was awkward, to be sure. But I have some information of my own that can shut him up pretty quick."

Arnold raised an eyebrow. "Oh really? Care to share?"

She smirked at him and shook her head. "Nope," she replied. "But if he gets on your case about something, ask him about the feathers in the bedroom."

"Oh God, I'm not sure I want to." He thought for a moment. "Listen, I'll wait for, um, you know, sexy time- "

Helga laughed. "Are you for real, Football Head? Sexy time? Criminy, you're a dweeb."

Arnold impatiently cleared his throat. "As I was saying, I'll wait for hot steamy sex as long as you want. Better?"

Helga blushed. "Um, work in progress. And trust me, I'll let you know when I'm ready. Gerald said you don't pick up hints very well so I need to be really obvious."

Arnold groaned. "That was _one_ time and he makes me sound like I don't pick up on social cues at all."

Helga grinned at him. "Well I'll be sure to make it blatantly obvious," she said as she slid her fingers just inside the waistband of his flannel pants at the hips. She slowly moved them toward the front and watched his eyes widen before pulling her fingers back out and quickly kissing his nose. "G'night!" she said as she rolled away from him.

Arnold sighed and put his arm around her again. "I hate Gerald," he whispered.

 **A/N: This chapter and the previous one were already completed so I figure it's only right to put them out close together.**

 **Blue- I definitely put Helga's strawberry allergy in there.**

 **Keep the puns coming. And Gerald and Helga will have more interactions in the future.**


	62. Chapter 61 - Aggravated DWI

**Aggravated DWI**

 **September 18, 1243**

Helga flipped through the pages of each report on her desk, slowly whittling down the enormous pile next to her. Everything from false burglar alarms and domestics to assaults and animal abuse. She was about ready to tear her hair out. _I knew this was going to drive me nuts. Why did I agree to this?_ The radio scanner murmured in the back-ground, but she wasn't paying attention to it. _Can't Harold spell_ anything _right? How did he pass elementary school?_ She was about ready to take a break when her cell phone vibrated. She pulled it out and checked the caller ID before answering.

"What's up, Sid?"

"Uh, hey Sarge. Listen, I've got a traffic stop here and it looks like it's going to turn into a DWI."

Helga waited, expecting further elaboration. "Okay… why is this important to me right now?"

"Well, the driver's revoked for a prior DWI offense."

She was getting angry. _Why is he bothering me with this?_ "Sid, you've been doing this job as long as I have. Why are you telling me this?"

"Well she blew over a point one eight on the portable and- "

"Sidney!" she yelled. "What. Is. Your. Point?!"

There was a moment of silence before Sid cleared his throat. "It's, uh, well the driver, you see, is um… it's a Miriam Pataki."

* * *

 **1259**

Helga slammed the door shut on her patrol car and marched up to Sid, who was standing in front of his car talking to a blonde woman in her fifties. The woman caught sight of Helga as she approached and waved.

"Oh hiiii, honeyyy," she slurred. She lost her balance and reached out to steady herself on the hood of Sid's car. "I was just telling this nice young man allll about you!"

Helga scowled. "Not now, Miriam." She turned to Sid. "You've got the SFSTs on the camera?"

Sid swallowed against the lump in his throat. "Yeah, Sarge."

"Stay here with her. I'll watch it alone." Helga sat in the driver's seat of Sid's patrol car and replayed his dash cam. Sure enough, a very drunk Miriam Pataki stumbled and tripped her way to an obvious failure of the field sobriety tests, all the while awkwardly flirting with a very nervous Sid. Helga pressed the back of her head against the seat and looked up at the roof of the car while blowing out a deep breath. She squeezed her eyes shut. _Fuck my life,_ she thought. She looked back out the windshield and waved to Sid to come back to the window.

"You want me to give her a ride home, Sarge?"

"Can't do that, Sid. She's hammered and it's all caught on camera."

"Well, I won't say anything if you won't."

Helga shook her head. She stared off into space. "I'm vested with the law, and they shall not find me a coward," she muttered.

Sid looked at her, puzzled. "Sarge?"

She looked up at him. "Some of the last words of the first American Sheriff to be murdered in the line of duty." _Murdered. That'll be me when Bob finds out._ "I'll put the cuffs on, you'll process her."

Sid looked at her with wide eyes. "We could turn it over to state if you want. Conflict of interest and all that."

She shook her head. "No. I'll do it." _My family is my responsibility._

Helga stepped out of the car and pulled a set of cuffs from the loop on the back of her belt. She walked up to Miriam, who was leaning against the hood, struggling to stay on her feet. "Miriam Pataki," Helga called out.

Miriam smiled. "Oh, so formal, Deputy Helga."

Helga sighed. "Miriam Pataki, you're under arrest for Driving While Intoxicated. Please turn around and place your hands behind your back."

Miriam gave her a confused look. "Driving While Intoxicated? Nonsense sweetie, I'm just a little buzzed is all."

Helga gave her a pleading look. "Mom. Please," she said softly.

After a few moments, understanding and shame finally came to Miriam's face. "O-okay, Helga. I'm… I'm sorry." She turned around and did as she was asked. Helga was thankful. As long as Miriam was facing away she wouldn't be able to see the tears gathering in Helga's eyes.

* * *

 **1327**

Arnold's phone buzzed. He smiled as he saw Helga's photo pop up on the caller ID. "Hey blondie," he answered happily.

"Arnold…"

His smile faded. "What's wrong?"

"Sid stopped Miriam today. She was hammered. I arrested her."

 _Oh no_. "Are you alright?"

"Arnold, I need to know… did I do the right thing? I'm not just taking revenge for years of neglect, am I?" She sounded genuinely distressed.

"What'd she blow?" he asked quietly.

"Point two one."

Arnold sighed. "You can't let that slide, Blue. She could've killed someone."

"I… I know. I just…" She paused. He knew this was hard for her. Even still she had trouble opening up about anything in her life from before he entered it. "She's still my mom, Arnold," she whispered.

He sighed. "Maybe this will be her wake up call. Remember, _she_ put you in this position. You didn't do it to her."

Helga snorted. "Actually, I think Sid put me in this position. But you're right. This sucks, Arnoldo."

Arnold smiled. She was already feeling better, he could tell. The use of one of his many nicknames confirmed it. "I know, darlin'. How is your dad taking it?"

Helga barked a sarcastic laugh. "You think I've spoken to _him_? He's probably gonna kill me when he finds out. Blame me for ruining the family or something. Let's just say we won't be invited to Thanksgiving this year."

Arnold laughed despite himself. "Judging by last year, I wasn't going to be invited anyway. You may have to play Betsy Ross at _my_ Thanksgiving instead."

Helga allowed herself a chuckle. "I'd look good in a bonnet, and you know it." She sighed heavily. "Thanks, Football Head. We'll chat later. I have to go check on Sid. He's still convinced I'm going to kill him."

"Well, are you?"

"Of course not. He was doing his job. But I'm going to let him _think_ I am all the same."

"That's cruel and unusual punishment."

He could practically see Helga's shrug. "What can I say, I love watching him squirm. I'll see you after work, Hair Boy."

"Okay. Have a safe night."

There was a brief pause. "I-love-you-bye," she hurriedly said in a hushed tone before hanging up.

* * *

 **1829**

Arnold lounged on left side of the couch while Helga laid her head on his chest and laid her feet down the other end. She was tossing popcorn into her mouth while they flipped channels, looking for something even remotely interesting.

"Dancing with the Stars?" Arnold asked.

"I'd rather gouge out my own eyes with a melon baller."

Arnold winced. "For some reason, the melon baller makes that sound even more horrifying."

Helga's phone started to ring from the other room. She rolled her eyes. "That's Bob's ring tone."

Arnold looked at her as she started to get up. "Are you sure you want to answer that? You're in such a good mood."

"I'm pretty sure I _don't_ want to answer it. But I'll have to deal with it at some point. Might as well get it over with." She picked up the phone and sighed before hitting the answer button. "Hi, Dad."

"Don't you 'Hi dad' me, little lady. Do you have any idea what you've _done_?" Bob's tone was clearly furious.

Helga feigned innocence. "Why, whatever do you mean?"

"Criminy Olga, she's your _mother!"_

"And I'm your daughter _Helga_ , but that doesn't stop you from calling me by another person's name, now does it? It's not my fault Miriam decided to drive hammered _again._ You're acting like this has never happened before."

"You could have brought her home like a good daughter would have done! Olga wouldn't have done that to your mother, girl!"

Helga's anger was increasing by the second. "Don't you dare call me girl, Bob," she growled. "I'm a grown woman capable of making my own decisions. And so is Miriam. She made the choice to drive drunk and she got caught by one of _my_ deputies. I wasn't going to make him get involved in our family problems, so I did it myself."

"You could have looked the other way! Who was it? Was it that Alfred kid? I'll strangle him myself- "

"You watch yourself, _Bob_ ," Helga cautioned, menace in her voice. "You're coming dangerously close to crossing a line. And no, it wasn't _Arnold_ , which is _his_ name. I will not allow an asshole like you to threaten one of my men, and I'll arrest you too if I have to. Capiche, _Bob?_ " She practically spat his name.

"You're an embarrassment to this family and the Pataki name. Don't ever come to my home again." Bob hung up. Helga threw her phone into the couch cushions. Her face was red as she balled her fists and fought back tears of absolute fury.

Arnold sat for a moment watching her. He wasn't sure what to say, but he _was_ sure he had never seen her that angry before. Perhaps silence was best. After a few moments Helga began to come down. She stood motionless for a minute before suddenly striding into the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Arnold asked as he watched her grab her jacket.

She came back in and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "There's something I have to do."

Arnold had a moment of panic. "You're not going to confront Bob, are you?"

She turned and walked toward the door. "No, but don't worry about it," she called over her shoulder before she closed the door.

* * *

 **1900**

"Miriam Pataki?"

Miriam looked up from her cell bed. "Yes?"

The Corrections Officer unlocked her cell door. "You're free to go, ma'am. Someone paid your bail."

"Was it Bob?" she asked hopefully.

"I'm not sure, ma'am. They just told me to come get you and process you out." Miriam walked out and followed the officer back to the front of the jail. The process of signing for her property and processing out of the jail took about a half hour, but she finally stood behind the final security door. She waited impatiently for it to open so she could see her husband and finally go home. The solid steel door emitted a loud beep and slowly slid to her left, revealing the lobby beyond. But she did not see Big Bob waiting for her. Instead, a scowling Helga stood before her, hands on her hips, chewing gum furiously. She was dressed in a light blue flannel shirt covered by her gray jacket and pink sweatpants. She had clearly been intending to spend her night at home.

Miriam looked down at the ground in shame. "Helga, I… I'm so sorry."

"Enough of that, Miriam. There's a cab out front waiting to take you home."

Miriam looked up at Helga, puzzled. "You're not going to bring me?"

Helga sighed. "Let's just say I'm persona non grata at the Pataki household for a while, if not forever. Big Bob doesn't want to see the girl that ruined the family."

Miriam walked closer to Helga and reached out for one of her hands. Helga froze as Miriam rubbed the back of her hand. "Helga, I'm ashamed of what happened, but it's not your fault. I did this to myself. And to you. And to the family. If they don't send me to jail, I promise I'll… I'll do better. I don't want you to be embarrassed by me ever again."

Helga looked around nervously, not ready for the tenderness Miriam was displaying. "Uh, yeah, well, just do me a favor and make sure you show up to court. Your bail wasn't cheap."

Miriam smiled. "I'll do that. And I'll talk to your father."

Helga snorted. "Don't waste your time on that blowhard. He'll never change."

Miriam frowned and shook her head. "You two are a lot alike in some ways, Helga. Don't be stubborn like he is. You'll miss out on so much in life. Like that nice young man, you brought with you on Thanksgiving." Miriam looked up at her and smiled again. "I think he likes you."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Okay, Miriam. Just go home. And try to get a job before this whole court thing kicks into gear. They're always less likely to lock up a contributing member of society."

"Okay sweetie." Miriam gave her a hug which Helga did not reciprocate. Miriam let her go and dejectedly walked toward the door. Helga turned to watch her for a moment.

"Mom?"

Miriam turned around. "Yes, honey?"

Helga looked down at the ground. "His name is Arnold. And we're kinda, you know, together and stuff," she said awkwardly.

Miriam smiled broadly. "I'm very happy for you Helga. I hope I get to really meet him one of these days."

"Yeah, well, you work on things with Bob and we'll figure something out."

Miriam nodded and walked out the door. Helga rubbed her elbow. _That was weird_ , she thought.

* * *

 **September 19, 0805**

"And you didn't think being the arresting officer for your own _mother_ would be a conflict of interest in the case?"

"Cap, it was clear from the video that she failed her SFSTs. I made the arrest, so Sid wouldn't have to deal with any potential fallout."

The Captain turned to Sid. "And why didn't you contact State and have them send a patrol to take over? Or Mercyside for that matter? I'd rather have the part-timers take that then this huge mess you made, Sidney!"

Sid opened his mouth to reply but Helga interrupted. "I call bullshit, Cap. Sid did what he was supposed to and called his direct supervisor; _me_. You know damn well he can't turn a case over to State without my say so. Don't take this out on Sid for doing his fuckin' job!"

"Watch your tone with me, _Sergeant!_ " Wartz yelled.

"And don't you target my deputies for following a direct order, _Captain_!" she yelled back.

Sid stood wide-eyed and looked at his two superior officers as the battle of wills continued. Wartz was dumping hate all over Helga, but she was taking none of it. Sid had no idea where this was going to end up, but he knew it probably wasn't going to be good.

"Dammit Pataki, I'm done with this shit. I'm docking you three vacation days for insubordination."

" _Fine!_ I'll see you at the disciplinary hearing with my Union rep. Are we done here, Captain?"

"You're dismissed. Both of you," he said giving Sid a sidelong glance. "And next time, Sidney, you'll be docked days as well if you don't follow protocol."

"That's a crock of shit and you know it, Captain. He _followed_ his procedures, and I'll be damned if I'll let you take days from any deputy in my squad for doing their fucking job," Helga's eyes bored directly into the Captain.

"Fine, _four_ vacation days!"

"Just make it an even week why don't ya!"

 _I'm not sure Helga knows how to bargain,_ Sid thought.

"Done! Now get the hell out of my office!"

Sid turned first and practically ran out of the room while Helga stomped after him, slamming the door as she did so. Her face was flushed and her shoulders tense. Sid stared at her, afraid to say anything. She took a deep breath and looked at Sid. The rage in her eyes was apparent.

"You good, Sid?" she asked in a remarkably calm tone.

"Uh, yeah Sarge, I'm good. Uh, thanks for taking the heat there."

"Yeah, well don't go ruining my horrible reputation around here. If I'm not Helga the Harpy, Harold's head might explode."

Sid gulped. "You've uh, heard that one, huh?"

She started walking toward the squad room with Sid alongside her. "I've heard them all, Sid. I'm not deaf and I'm not stupid. I know what you all think of me." Sid stopped for a moment and Helga turned when she realized he wasn't next to her. She was finally calming down. She raised an eyebrow at him. "You alright, Sid?"

"Uh, Sarge, I know a lot of the guys think you're, shall we say, unpleasant…"

Helga turned fully to him and crossed her arms as an impatient look came to her face. "Don't go flattering me, now."

"It's just that… that's not your only rep around here, boss. Everyone in this office, all the local guys, even the Staties. Even though most of them think you're, uh, mean, they all know if they're in trouble, Helga's coming for them. No matter what."

Helga dropped her arms. That was… unexpected. Arnold had told her that once, but she didn't really believe anyone besides him thought that. "Uh, thanks Sid. That's… that's true?"

Sid smiled for the first time since Wartz had called them into his office. "One hundred and ten percent, Sarge."

Helga allowed herself a small smile. "Alright, enough of this mushy shit. Get out to your zone, Deputy," she said. "And remember, don't ruin my rep."

Sid shook his head. "Sarge, losing five days to stand up for lil' ol' me is just gonna give Gerald another legend to tell." He smiled as he walked past her to the road room.

Helga stayed in the hallway a moment longer, thinking to herself. She had always assumed everyone just thought she was a bitch. She didn't know anyone around the office appreciated her showing up on their scenes to help. She chuckled. _I guess they don't hate me as much as I thought, though._ She resumed her walk to the road room.

"Did he really take a week from you?" a voice asked from one of the doorways. Rhonda leaned against the wall of the Lieutenant's closet sized office, her arms crossed in front of her. Her face was surprisingly blank. Helga expected a satisfied smirk.

"What's it to you, Princess? Come to gloat?" Helga crossed her own arms and glowered.

Rhonda pushed herself off the wall. "I heard what you said about your reputation around here. We all hear the whisperings about ourselves when no one thinks we're around. I know what you all think of _me_ , and it's none too flattering."

Helga's face relaxed into a look of confusion. _What's going on here?_

Rhonda cast her gaze at the floor. "Listen, Sid's right. Yeah, I'd be the first one to call you a bitch with the rest of them. But I know like everyone else you're not gonna leave me out there if I need you." She looked up at Helga and met her eyes. Helga was surprised at the intensity of her stare. "I know you all think I'm some pretty girl who's here because daddy pushed me through the academy, but he damn near disowned me for becoming a cop. I'm here because I fought through all the bullshit like the rest of you."

"Then why don't you ever leave your zone to back guys up? I gotta be honest, Rhondaloid, it _looks_ like you don't want to be out humping calls with the rest of the guys."

Rhonda threw her hands up in frustration. "Why do you think I'm waiting for Eltee right now? Because my sergeant rides my ass every time I leave my zone. I'm getting fed up with it. I _want_ to leave my towns and help you guys. I know I threw a fit when we got reassigned for that shooting, but after seeing that kid and then you and Wittenburg, I started remembering why I wanted to do this job in the first place. And it wasn't to sit in on town hall meetings and shake hands at carnivals. I lost my way and I've created an image that's not the real me, which is something I'm sure you know all about." Rhonda looked down at the floor.

"What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?" Helga narrowed her eyes.

"Exactly what it sounds like. I know you keep your relationship with Arnold on the downlow so that people won't think you're soft. Trust me, Pataki. No one thinks that just because you like the nice guy that you're somehow weak."

Helga looked down and rubbed the toe of her boot on a scuff in the floor. "Tell you what, Rhonda. The next time you're working my shift and Sergeant Micromanagement isn't on, you have blanket authority from me to leave your zone to back up anyone you wish."

Rhonda raised an eyebrow. "Really? I feel like there's got to be something in this for you."

Helga shrugged. "If I get an extra car to help my guys out, that's all I need."

"And if my supervisor jumps your shit for letting me out of the pen?"

Helga snorted. "Eltee likes me better."

Rhonda smiled. "Alright, Sarge." She stepped out of the Lieutenant's office and back into the squad room.

Helga stood another moment before shaking her head. _This place gets weirder every damn day,_ she thought before following Rhonda through the door. She never saw Wartz peaking his head out of his door, listening to every word of both conversations.

 **A/N: SFST= Standardized Field Sobriety Test. The same tests are conducted across the entire country in the same manner (hence 'standardized'). A failure of all three tests is generally considered sufficient probable cause for a DWI arrest, even if the suspect provides a chemical sample (either breath or blood) that is under the legal limit. Basically, if you're a lightweight and you fail the tests at a .06, you're still getting slapped with a DWI. A failure of just the eye test indicates something like a 75% chance the subject is over .08 Blood Alcohol Content (BAC). In my state, .08 is the legal limit. I believe that's standard in most states. If you're over .18, it advances to a more serious charge (Aggravated DWI). The highest I've seen personally is a .24. The highest I've seen in our office was over .30. At that point, the suspect is dangerously close to have a serious medical emergency. Once you've completed your breath test in a circumstance like that, the suspect will usually be transported to a hospital immediately for evaluation. If they end up keeping them there, the arresting officer can get stuck sitting with them until they're released. That could mean hours of sitting in a hospital room with an outrageously drunk person. One whose night you ruined by arresting them. Fun times. A girl I went to high school with (she was two years behind me) was arrested for having a BAC of .41.**

 **I can see some people had some concerns with Gerald and Phoebe having chats with their friends about their sex life. I think Phoebe is obviously worried about her friend, knowing her issues. We'll get some more background on Helga's intimacy problems as time goes on. As for Gerald, Helga's been picking on him of late and he wanted to make her feel uncomfortable. Revealing her actual dilemma was not really his intention; he just wanted to turn the tables. But he's not a massive jerk so eased off when he realized that there was actually something wrong there.**

 **Cupcake Artist: I can see your concern, but honestly, I just don't think it's always necessary for me to write it out. With the time jumps and all that, I'm obviously not writing down all of their interactions on a day to day basis but am instead trying to focus on the things that advance the narrative or their characters. They'll say it from time to time, but it won't be at the end of every chapter or every interaction. More like when they need to hear those words as reassurance. And for the second question, yes, they're alive. They've made an appearance in the story already, though it was more of a cameo. When they next appear, they'll be meeting Helga. But that chapter will still focus more on Helga than it will Miles and Stella.**


	63. Chapter 62 - Special Assignment

**Special Assignment**

 **September 19, 1024**

Helga stood at the doorway to the court room as the reporters and observers filed out past her. She wasn't entirely sure what case had just been wrapped up. _Arson, or robbery, or some such?_ The majority of the people had left the room, but two men remained. The shorter of the two wore a cheap, thread-bare tan suit that seemed to match the unkempt hair and greasy complexion. The taller was wearing a sharp, brand-new blue suit with a matching tie, brightly shined black shoes, and an expensive haircut. The two men shook hands and the man in the tan suit grabbed a weathered brown briefcase. He nodded at Helga as he walked by her. Helga made her way through the gate and walked toward the table that the well-dressed man was gathering his belongings from.

"Lorenzo convicts another one, huh?" she asked.

The man chuckled and turned around. "What can I do for you, Deputy Pataki?"

Helga huffed as she crossed her arms, an index finger impatiently tapping on her stripes.

Lorenzo raised an eyebrow. "Forgive me, _Sergeant_ Pataki."

"And don't forget it, bucko."

Lorenzo grinned. "Charming, as ever. I assume there's something I can do for you, since I've never seen you enter a court room without a subpoena."

"Is that any way to talk to the cop that gives you the most air-tight cases?"

"Oh, I don't know. If you're a supervisor now, I imagine you won't be giving me any more of them. If you can't help me in the future, why would I want to help you now?"

"Because I'm molding the next generation of cops, and now instead of just me giving you convictions, my whole squad will be."

"I'll believe it when I see it. So, what is it you need?"

Helga began examining her finger nails, as though her request were a minor issue. "You're going to have an Aggravated DWI case coming to your office tomorrow. One prior conviction. I was hoping maybe you could go easy on the defendant."

"Sounds to me like you're expecting a conviction or at least a plea deal. One of your cases?"

"One of my excellent deputies, though I may have been involved in some capacity."

"And who, pray tell, is the defendant?"

Helga looked up at him. "It's one Miriam Pataki."

Lorzeno's eyes widened. "Your mom got another?"

"Yeah. So, can you help me or not?'

Lorenzo tapped a finger on his chin. "Well, she's going to lose her license. Minimum two years."

"I think we can live with that."

"And she's definitely going to have to pay a fine. Probably a few grand."

"Reasonable."

"I can probably keep the jail time to a minimum. Six months?"

Helga blanched. "Six months? Are you nuts? She'd lose her mind in there!"

Lorenzo shrugged. "Repeat offender, prior conviction, Aggravated with a solid case? Why would I want to cut her a break?"

"C'mon Lorzeno. You owe me."

"Pataki, I appreciate your hard work. Your cases are always solid. But how can I justify being lenient? It's going to look like favoritism."

"Is there _anything_ I can do?"

Lorenzo thought for a moment, then a smile spread across his face. Helga found it unsettling. _I'm not going to like this answer,_ she thought.

"Follow me to my office. I have something… _special_ I want to show you."

 _It had better not be in your pants or you might lose it, bucko_. Helga followed Lorenzo out of the building and across the street to the District Attorney's office. They entered Lorenzo's office and he closed the door behind him. He walked around his desk, removed a blue folder from his drawer, and handed it to Helga. She eyed the ADA carefully before opening the folder.

"What does this have to do with me? You already have the suits and our plain clothes guys on the roster, according to this."

"Well, based on the type of case it is, we could use someone with your specific… talents."

Helga's eyes widened. "No. No way. Nuh uh, not gonna happen."

She threw the folder on the desk and began to turn for the door, but Lorenzo cut off her escape. "Come on, Pataki. We could really use you for this."

"No. I'm not getting involved in this. It's an obvious political op for the DA and the Sheriff. I'd rather breach doors for the SWAT team while wearing a bikini and singing show tunes." Lorenzo ran his eyes up and down her body once before humming to himself. Helga frowned and punched him in the shoulder. "I didn't say you could imagine me in a bathing suit, pervert!"

"Okay, look. You do this for us, and I'll cut your mom a break. If she maintains full-time employment, I'll agree to a regular DWI conviction, conditional license for two years, and weekends in jail for 3 months."

Helga groaned. _That's a pretty good deal, and Miriam avoids the felony conviction._ "Fine. But I only do this one time. One! Four hours max."

Lorenzo face twisted into a predatory smile. "Deal." He held his hand out for a shake.

Helga scowled, but took it. She made sure to squeeze tightly, eliciting a wince from Lorenzo. "She'd better appreciate this."

* * *

 **September 23, 2206**

She wore a tight pink tube top and matching miniskirt with her black flats. Her makeup was over-done, her blond hair pulled into a ponytail, while large hoops dangled from her ears. She leaned against the brick wall near the street corner, waiting patiently. A car pulled up in front of her and the passenger window rolled down. She put on the best smile she could muster and walked up.

"Heya handsome. Lookin' for some fun?"

"That depends, beautiful. How much is the fun gonna cost me?"

The blond shrugged. "That depends on what you want. How about I get in and we can talk about it?"

The man unlocked the door and the blond got into the passenger seat.

"So, how much will a BJ run me?"

"Twenty bucks. If you wanna get laid, fifty a half hour."

"And what if I want something a little… taboo."

The blond rolled her eyes. "Those are what I do and those are the prices. You couldn't afford anything else. Trust me."

The man reached into his pocket and handed her a $20 bill. "What's your name, sexy?"

The woman took the bill and smiled. "I like a guy that pays up front. And the name's Cecile." The man began to unzip his pants when flashing lights appeared in his rear view mirror. "You're a fucking cop, aren't you?!" the woman yelled.

"What? No! I don't know where they came from!"

"Great. I'm going to jail tonight. Good work, asshole."

"I didn't-"the man began to protest before the driver's door was wrenched open and he was dragged out. The blond was similarly pulled out of the car.

"Hands on the roof, both of you!" a gruff voice called out. Cecile did as she was instructed. A tall, black-haired woman wearing a badge on a chain walked up behind her and began to pat her down, checking her waistline and under her bust. "Put them in different cars. I don't want them talking on the way to the station." The officer brought Cecile's hands behind her back and cuffed her roughly before dragging her to a waiting patrol car. The blond was stuffed in the back seat where the black-haired officer joined her. The uniformed officer in the driver seat quickly shifted into gear and traveled around the corner. Once they were out of sight of the other suspect, Cecile spoke again.

"Criminy, Princess. Handsy much?"

Rhonda shrugged as she started taking Helga's cuffs off. "I've got to sell it, right?"

Helga pulled at her top. "If you want to get to second base, you're gonna have to buy me dinner first," she grumbled. _I feel like I'm falling out of this top. And my ass is practically hanging out of this skirt. I'm going to kill Lorenzo for this._ "Why aren't _you_ being the bait, anyway? I'm sure you could wear this skanky outfit better than me."

Rhonda frowned. "Gee, thanks. You really think I would be caught dead in that outfit?"

Helga blushed. "Uh, sorry. What I meant was, I'm not sure I'm... endowed enough to attract attention."

Rhonda raised an eyebrow. "You really want to compare cup sizes? And they didn't ask me. They asked you."

"Yeah, well I volunteer you for next time."

"And why are you wearing flats instead of heels? You should be wearing some heels if you're a hooker, especially with those legs."

Helga ignored the compliment. "I can't _run_ in heels, Princess. Besides, I've never worn heels before."

Rhonda gaped at her in surprise and was about to say something before she was interrupted.

"Detective Sergeant Hayes wants to know if you're ready to go back for another one," the uniformed Hillwood PD officer said over his shoulder.

Helga sighed. "Yeah, sure." _Only one more hour. Then I never have to wear a tube top again._

* * *

 **2221**

Helga had set up again, showing off her legs as best she could and waiting for the next desperate man to stop and ask her for a good time. She aggressively chewed her gum to keep her mind off the fact that she was half-naked on a street corner in downtown Hillwood. _Arnold is going to lose his mind when he hears I did this. Freakin' Rhonda has gotten as much play as he has. I need to get over this intimacy thing. Oh shit, this car is stopping. Okay, deep breath. You got this._

Helga opened her purse and checked to make sure the radio transmitter was working as she walked up to the car. She heard the window roll down as she approached.

"What're you lookin' for tonight, hot stuff?" she asked without looking up. She heard a sound coming from inside the car. Almost a wheezing sound. _Huh. I haven't heard a sound like that since…_ She froze.

"Uh… hey Helga."

 _No. It can't be him._ Helga slowly looked up at the man sitting in the driver's seat. _It's him. Shit._ "Brainy, what the hell are you doing here?" she whispered hoarsely.

"Uh… I saw you here and I thought I would stop. You… don't need to do this."

"Dammit Brainy, this isn't what you think it is!"

He opened the door and started to get out of the car. _Oh fuck. If he touches me the backup team is going to take him down!_ "Brainy, get back in the damn car! We can talk about this later. Now is _not_ the time."

Brainy walked around the back of the car. "Helga, just come with me. We can go someplace safe. Someplace where you don't have to do… _this_."

He reached for her arm, but she pulled back abruptly. "Don't touch me!" she hissed. "You have no idea what you're getting in the middle of!"

Brainy scoffed. "I don't care about your pimp or whatever he is." He reached for her hand again but was interrupted as two men knocked him to the ground. The wind was knocked out of him as the two officers wrestled his arms behind his back.

"Guys. Guys! _GUYS!_ " Helga yelled. The two officers looked up at her. She was holding a hand to her face and squeezing her eyes shut, as if fighting a horrible headache. "You can get off him. He's harmless."

"You know this guy?" Rhonda asked as she came up behind her.

"Yeah. We went to high school together. So, you can get off him. He wasn't soliciting."

The officers got off Brainy's back and stood him up slowly. "Helga?" he asked. He was clearly stunned, his broken glasses dangling from one ear.

"I'm a cop, Brain-Boy. And you just walked into the middle of a sting."

* * *

 **September 24, 0049**

Arnold played with Helga's hair as they laid on her bed. The TV was on but neither of them was paying attention to it as Helga recounted her strange night.

"You really said you'd rather wear a bikini while breaking down doors?"

"Easy, Head Boy. I don't even own a bikini."

Arnold frowned. "Well, that's disappointing."

Helga raised an eyebrow. "You honestly think I'd model it for you if I did?"

Arnold shrugged and smirked. "Eh, I've made it to second base."

"You and Rhonda both," Helga muttered.

"Uh, say what?"

Helga's eyes widened. "Um, some other time."

Arnold glanced at her curiously but decided to let that one go for the time being. "So, did anyone _other_ than Rhonda get fresh?"

"Just one. Sort of. I mean, not really, but… ugh, it's complicated."

Arnold chuckled. "Complicated is what you do best, love."

Helga felt a smile grow across her face even as she blushed a deep red. _Oh, Arnold…_

"So, tell me about this complicated guy."

Her smile faded. "His name's Brian, but we called him Brainy. I've known him since we were kids. He used to follow me everywhere. He was sorta my stalker. And the breathing…"

"Wait, he _stalked_ you?"

Helga waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, don't make such a big deal out of it. He was harmless. For some reason he actually liked me, which I never understood. I used to punch him in the face and break his glasses all the time, but he kept following me anyway. By the time we got to high school I had mellowed out a little. Well, not really, but I just thought it was easier if I didn't interact with people in general because it was a chore and I was over it. I stopped hitting him or didn't hit him as much maybe. I'm not really sure, I mostly hit him out of reflex anyway. He was probably the only person besides Phoebe that was nice to me."

Helga sighed. "Phoebe and I went to a party when we were seniors. I didn't go to parties, so this was the first, and only, party I attended in high school. Phoebe went off and did her thing and I got bored. So, I drank a little. And then a little turned into a lot. I got pretty shitfaced, and of course Brainy showed up because, stalker. And in my inebriated state, I decided to throw him a bone." She looked up Arnold and saw him biting his lip. "Pun very much intended, laughing approved." She smiled. "You know, I've never told anyone this story other than Phoebe. That must mean I like you or something."

"Must be the 'or something.'" He kissed her forehead. "Please, continue."

Helga shrugged. "There's not much more to it, really. We hooked up. It was thoroughly unsatisfying. I actively avoided him after that, which probably wasn't very nice, but I wasn't a very nice person, so I guess it made sense. After graduation, never saw Brainy again. Until last night when he tried to go all 'white knight' and save me from a life of sin. I'm surprised he recognized me in that street walker garb."

"Well, once you've seen those legs you'd recognize them anywhere."

She smacked him lightly. "Don't get fresh with me, mister."

"Perish the thought. That wasn't the last time you… well, you know."

She shook her head. "No."

Arnold smiled. "I guess the sharing is over for tonight, huh?"

"Yup." She looked up at Arnold to see him pout. "Oh, no sad faces Mr. Hair Boy." She rolled onto his chest and looked at him with mischief in her eyes. "If you prove to be a superior kisser, maybe you can get around second base tonight."

Arnold pecked her lips before smirking at her. "Can I pass second if Rhonda is still standing on it? I'm pretty sure passing a runner is an automatic out."

"Well, now I guess you _have_ to get to third."

 **A/N: Truth be told, I don't actually know how a prostitution sting works, but I've seen a little bit on Cops and this seems about right. Many thanks to lilalex13 for assisting me with some of the 'girl talk.'**

 **CupcakeArtist- Here's a little fluff. Maybe not the "I love you" you're looking for, but I hope it passes muster. I totally understand what you're saying. But I think for them, it might be about the experiences instead of the words. Simply spending the time together and enjoying one another's company when they can is the important thing, especially since they don't have the same schedule. When you're a cop and everyone you talk to is lying to your face, words don't mean much. And you also learn to enjoy the little moments life throws your way.**


	64. Chapter 63 - Reprimand

**Reprimand**

 **September 27, 0710**

Captain Wartz stuck his head into the road room and located his target. "Sergeant Pataki, a moment in my office please?" He didn't wait for her response, which was for the best. Helga rolled her eyes, gave a much put-upon sigh, and tramped out of the room and down the hall. As she entered the Captain's office he turned to her. "Shut the door, please." She did as she was asked.

Wartz slid a sheet of paper across his desk toward her. "Please read this and let me know what you think."

She picked up the paper but didn't look at it. "If this is about the insubordination charge, I'm afraid it will have to wait for the disciplinary hearing with my union representative present."

Wartz stared at her. "Sergeant just read the damned paper before you give me the attitude."

Helga frowned and finally glanced at the sheet in her hand. It was a memo regarding her insubordination charge. As she read it, her frown changed from one of irritation to one of confusion. She finished the short memo and then read it again. She finally looked back at Wartz. "I don't understand. This says I agree that I received a verbal counseling regarding the possible conflict of interest. It doesn't say anything about the docked vacation days."

"You're not being docked any vacation days, and there will be no letter of reprimand in your personnel file. This memo will be placed in there and will be removed after six months and destroyed."

She folded her arms across her chest and regarded him curiously. "What's your game here, Captain?"

Wartz clasped his hands in front of him on his desk. "The game here, Sergeant, is that I thought over what you did and why you did it, and despite your incredibly insubordinate tone while speaking with me in front of another deputy, I have decided that docking you time is not an appropriate response, considering that you were correct. Policy does not require you to hand over that case. Though I assure you, one is being written at this time to cover that scenario."

Helga raised an eyebrow. "I get my own policy now, huh?"

"It's not something to be proud of, Sergeant."

Helga looked back at the memo. "So, I sign this and it's over?"

"That's the gist of it."

Helga thought for a moment, then pulled out her pen and leaned on his desk. She initialed and dated the paper and handed it back to him. "Thank you, sir. I appreciate your understanding in the matter."

Helga turned to go but Wartz spoke up. "Sergeant, there is one other matter I wish to discuss."

Helga's shoulders deflated. _Almost made it out._ "Yes, sir?" she asked as she turned back.

"I've decided that Sergeant Swanson is a little overworked of late. I'm going to be transferring one of his Community Deputies to you for supervision."

Helga's eyes narrowed. "Which deputy did you have in mind?"

Wartz picked up a sheet of paper off his desk. "Deputy… Lloyd, should be fine."

Helga bent forward and snatched the paper from Wartz. She laid it on the desk in front of her and leaned on both hands which she planted on either side of it. "This is the daily special menu from Antonio's Pizzeria. You were eaves dropping on our conversation in the hallway, weren't you?"

Wartz stood and adopted a similar posture. The two stared at each other across the desk. "Sergeant, I'm going to let you in on a little secret about this place. I'm not your enemy. Sometimes I have to be the bad guy because the Sheriff forces it upon me. Sometimes I choose to _make_ myself the bad guy. Do you know why I might do such a thing?"

Helga had to admit that she had no clue, so she simply shrugged.

"Because if everyone in that road room is pissed off at me most of the time, they have less time to be pissed off at each other and having a common target for their anger brings them together. Morale in this place is in the shitter and I'm perfectly well aware of it. Which is why when you go back into that room you're going to tell everyone I took your vacation, despite what that memo says. Is that understood?"

Helga gaped at the Captain as what he was saying finally sunk in. _It's all an act. An act to make sure they don't take their frustrations out on each other._ She straightened her stance. "Yes, sir."

"Good. I'll also leave it to you to inform Deputy Lloyd of her temporary assignment to your squad. She is still assigned to her regular detail, but you will be her direct supervisor responsible for her day to day activities and reviewing her paperwork. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"You're dismissed, Sergeant."

Helga turned and walked to the door but paused before entering the hallway. She looked at Wartz over her shoulder and saw him holding his head in his hands. He looked frustrated, exhausted, and overwhelmed. In that moment, Helga understood the old adage that it's lonely at the top.

"Hey Cap?"

Wartz didn't look up. "Yes, Sergeant?"

"Thank you. And… I'm sorry. For the nightmare I must be."

Wartz turned and faced her. "Helga, just get out of my office and give me a few minutes peace."

She grinned at him. "You got it, Cap." She shut the door behind her as she exited.

Wartz picked up one of the small animal figurines from his desk. As he turned it over in his hands, a small smile spread across his face. He knew he would probably never hear Helga Pataki apologize for being a pain in his ass ever again. He had to take his victories however he could get them.

* * *

Helga entered the squad room with a dangerous grin on her face. She spotted Rhonda reclined in a chair with her boots on the desk. "Rhondaloid, here so early?"

Rhonda shrugged as she filed her nails carefully with an emery board. "My car's getting an oil change, then I'm heading out. Why?" Helga swiped Rhonda's feet off the desk and sat in the space they had vacated. "Hey!"

"Can it, sister. You and I have business together."

Rhonda crossed her arms. "If this is about me allegedly groping you during the sting-"

Helga interrupted her with a wave of her hand. "Water under the bridge. You getting to second base just advanced the runner ahead of you, is all."

Rhonda frowned in confusion. "I don't get it."

"You're not meant to. Anyway, I just had an interesting conversation with the Captain."

"What are you in trouble for this time?" Rhonda asked with a smirk.

Helga returned it with a predatory smile that Rhonda definitely didn't like. "You're temporarily reassigned to me, sweet cheeks. I'm your new supervisor."

Rhonda's smirk faded, and she uncrossed her arms. "So, I'm not going to get in trouble if I leave my zone for things?"

"Even better Princess. Now I _expect_ you to. Captain says you're still confined to your zone, but I want you assisting on every call in your towns if you're not handling it. And you'll answer all 911 calls you're closer to, even if its outside your patrol area."

Rhonda smiled. "Thanks, Sarge."

Helga regarded her for a moment. _Huh,_ she thought. _Maybe she's serious about getting out to help. I thought this was going to be more entertaining._ "I expect proper investigations, detailed narratives, and timely submissions. Clear?"

"Crystal. I've got this, Sarge. I promise."

Helga eyed her up and down then pushed herself off the desk. "Okay then, Deputy Lloyd. When your car is ready I expect you in your zone and humping calls." She checked her watch. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm meeting Arnold at the Roadhouse Diner for breakfast."

"Aww, how cute! A work date!" Rhonda said teasingly.

Helga shot her a look. "Watch yourself, Lloyd. I still have the authority to make your life miserable."

"I've already seen you in a tube top. My life is complete."

Helga's face turned pink with frustration. She pointed at Rhonda and opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it. _You're her boss. You can't lay into her like you're on the same level, because you're not. Just let it go._ "You know what? I've gotta go meet my boyfriend. Since you've got nothing else going on while you wait for your car, I'd like you to make constructive use of your time."

"Uh, how exactly do you want me to do that?"

Helga pointed at the wall rack the held copies of all of the forms deputies commonly needed in day-to-day police work. "Organize that rack and make sure each type of form has at least 30 copies."

Rhonda looked at the rack. "How many copies are in there now?"

Helga shrugged as she walked to the door. "Dunno. Guess you'll have to count them all.

"Count them? There must be 40 different types of forms there!"

"I bid you adieu, your Highness."

Rhonda huffed. "This is because of the tube top thing, isn't it?"

Helga gave her a mock salute and a wink before walking out the door.

* * *

 **0750**

"Sorry I'm late, Arnoldo. It's been a weird morning."

Arnold spun on his stool at the diner counter with a smile on his face. "Helga, it's only five minutes. In this business, we're lucky that we get to eat at all."

"Speaking of, what're you getting?"

Helga took the stool next to him and grabbed the breakfast special menu. Arnold shrugged as he turned back toward the counter. "I dunno. Probably a breakfast burrito or something. What about you?"

"I'm in the mood for something bad for me."

Arnold chuckled. "Gee, there's a surprise."

Helga gave him a punch to the shoulder without looking up from her menu. She flipped it to the other side and immediately put it down. "Okay, I'm set."

"You sure? You didn't even look at the regular menu."

"Nope, totally sure." The waitress approached to take their orders. Arnold looked to Helga, but she gestured back to him. "You first, Hair Boy."

"Breakfast burrito please. Extra salsa."

The waitress looked to Helga. "And you?"

"Country fried steak with scrambled eggs on top. Extra gravy."

"You got it, honey." The waitress brought her ticket into the back.

"Extra gravy, huh?" Arnold asked.

"What can I say. Fried steak, eggs, _and_ sausage gravy? The only thing better would be if they threw some biscuits in there."

Arnold shook his head. "I tremble to think of what your arteries look like."

"They're fantastic Arnoldo." She bumped her shoulder into his. "Less judging, more eating."

"We just ordered. Maybe you could tell me what happened this morning."

"Oh, nothing really. The Captain gave me a verbal counseling but told me to tell everyone that I lost vacation days anyway."

"Which you have already failed at doing now that I know the truth, but please continue."

"Apparently the Captain makes himself to be the bad guy so we all focus our frustration at him and not each other."

"That's… interesting."

"He's a weird dude. He also was eavesdropping on my conversation with Rhonda the other day. He assigned her my squad for a while."

"So, is she being moved to regular road patrol, or…" he trailed off.

Helga shook her head as the waitress brought her a glass of orange juice. "She's staying in her community patrol, but I'm her supervisor. So, I gave her permission to come out of her towns and play whenever she feels like it."

"That's kind of you. And how did she know you wanted orange juice?"

Helga gave him a confused look. "Rhonda?"

Arnold looked at the waitress as she walked to the other end of the counter to take another order. "No, not Rhonda. What does Rhonda know about juice? The waitress. You didn't order that."

"Oh. I come here all the time. Sarah knows what I like."

Arnold chuckled. "I've been working here for a year, and I had no idea you came here often enough for the staff to know what you want without ordering it."

Helga sipped her orange juice through a straw. "I'm an international woman if mystery, Football Head. Better get used to it."

The food arrived, and the conversation temporarily ended as they both attacked their plates. Their breakfasts were quickly consumed and they both prepared to pay the bill.

"Sorry Sergeant G. Pataki, it's my turn to pay."

"I'm pretty sure that's not true, Deputy Football Head."

Before she could say another word, Arnold snatched the bill from the table. "Hey!" Helga called, but it was too late. Arnold had beaten her to the register. He handed his card to the hostess and she handed him a pen with a pinwheel taped to the top. Arnold grinned and started blowing on the pinwheel, causing it to spin.

"Dear God Arnoldo, how old are you?" Helga asked as she approached.

"We should have these when we go to domestics."

Helga stared at him. "What?"

"Think about it. Who can possibly stay mad at anyone when the guy or gal writing the report is playing with a pinwheel?" He illustrated his point by spinning the wheel again and beginning to sign his receipt while it was still going. Helga bit her lip to prevent a laugh from escaping, but Arnold caught her struggle out of the corner of his eye. He smiled. "See? I told you."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get a move on, Shortman. We've got work to do."

* * *

 **1026**

Helga tapped the steering wheel impatiently as she waited in the line of traffic. She was driving down Main Street in Leland, which was normally not a traffic problem. She could hear cars up ahead beeping their horns and sneaking by when there was no on-coming traffic. The number of vehicles ahead of her gradually thinned out and when was only a few cars back she could finally make out the obstruction.

Creeping down Main Street at a walking pace was a Sheriff's Office patrol car. Specifically, the one assigned to Sid. Helga huffed and put her car in park while she activated the lights to signal cars to go around her. She exited the vehicle and walked at a brisk pace to the driver's side of the creeping patrol car. She sneaked up to the driver's window and peered inside. Sid had his head down staring at the screen on his phone. She couldn't see the screen directly, but she already knew what he was doing. They had sent a memo around the office in August about this very issue.

"Sidney!" Helga yelled. Sid nearly jumped through the roof, dropping his phone in the process. She started banging on the window. "Sidney, you stop this car right now!"

The car lurched to a stop and Sid quickly rolled down the window with a sheepish grin on his face. His eyes darted side to side. "Uh, heeeeey, Sarge. What are you doing out this way at such an hour?"

Helga crossed her arms and glared at him. "Don't play coy with me, mister. I caught you red handed."

Sid's smile faded along with the color in his face. "Caught? Caught what? I wasn't doing anything."

"So, you're going to lie right to my face? You do recall last month's memo, correct?"

"That was the one about where to find the mile markers for the MV104a, right?"

Helga's face twisted in confusion for a moment before her scowl returned. "Oh no, Sid. You're not going to derail me like that." Helga opened the door and reached between Sid's legs to the floor of the car, making Sid increasingly uncomfortable.

"Uh, Sarge? I think this qualifies as sexual harassment."

Helga slapped his leg. "Move!"

"Whoa, bad touch!"

Helga finally fished the phone out from under Sid's seat. She flipped it over and saw that Sid had the Pokemon Go map open. "I _knew_ it!"

"Look, Sarge, I can explain-"

"I don't care about your excuses, Sidney. You're blocking traffic and people think you're either being a creeper or having a stroke. In a _marked_ patrol car. Now stop hunting for Pikachu and get back to work!"

"I was totally going to find a Magmar," he mumbled.

"I swear to God, Sidney, I will take this phone away right now and you'll never get it back!"

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry. Sheesh." Sid's eyes got wide as a realization hit him. "Oh no, you're not going to tell the Lieutenant, are you? Or the Captain? Helga, they'll dock me vacation days or suspend me!"

"Sid," she said in an exasperated tone. "I'm not going to tell the Lieutenant or the Captain. I can deal with this myself. You're going to clean and oil all of the patrol rifles. Every week. For the next three months."

Side let out a breath. "Thanks, Sarge. I'm… sorry. I won't play Pokemon Go while driving ever again."

Helga frowned. "You won't play it at work. Period."

Sid was about to protest, but then he saw the look on her face. "Understood, boss."

Helga tossed his phone back into his lap, nearly hitting a very sensitive area, and walked back to her car. _I swear, all they did was promote me to Office Mom._

 **A/N: My former midnight partner was playing with the pinwheel pen the other day and made that comment, so I had to find a way to work that in somewhere. And one of our guys definitely got in trouble for playing Pokemon Go while on duty. He didn't get caught by a Sergeant, but there was at least one concerned phone call to dispatch. Many thanks to Call Me Nettie for the conversation that led to the Pokemon Go portion of this chapter.**

 **Timewarp: I told you I had plans for Cecile.**

 **Nep2uune: There's a big advantage to using a sworn officer as part of the sting. She has arrest powers, which a civilian would not. Also, there is no such thing as an AA lock down facility in my state. Being drunk in public is also not a crime in and of itself, so we don't have "drunk tanks" or detox holding cells. If you haven't been disorderly enough for it to be considered a crime, you can be as drunk in public as you wish.**

 **Guest: I understand it's out of her comfort zone, but Helga has routinely shown that she'll do things she's not comfortable with when it really matters. She learned all of her lines for Romeo and Juliet in a day just so she could kiss Arnold, so she's dedicated. Arnold is never going to push her into doing something she doesn't want to. Besides, you can infer he made it to third base that night. He had to get further than Rhonda, after all.**

 **Ajay: Miriam will find out. The question is, will either of them tell Bob?**


	65. Chapter 64 - Car Seats

**Incident Type: Auto Accident – Fatal**

 **Location: State Route 5/County Route 24, Mercyside Township**

 **Date: September 30, 2016**

 **Time: 1432**

 **Narrative:** At the above date and time I was assigned by Hillwood 911 to respond to the incident location for a reported two car auto accident with injuries. On arrival, I observed a 2014 Toyota Prius, color blue, bearing registration IKT 45679, stationary on the North shoulder of State Route 5 with significant front-end damage. I also observed a 2006 Ford Explorer, color black, bearing registration GML 38173, stationary on the South shoulder of State Route 5, also with significant front-end damage. I observed what appeared to be an adolescent female laying in the middle of the road. I approached the female subject and checked for a pulse and found none. I advised 911 that we had an adolescent female in trauma arrest at the scene and to advise responding EMS. I then checked the occupants of the Explorer. The female operator had suffered non-life-threatening injuries to her left leg and arm. The passenger, a teenaged male, was unconscious and unresponsive, however I was able to confirm he was breathing. I checked on the operator of the Prius who was the only occupant. He had suffered lacerations to the head and right arm and his left leg appeared to be trapped in the vehicle. As he did not be suffering from life-threatening injuries, I advised 911 to update responding fire that we had entrapment on one vehicle and possible entrapment on the other. I also advised of the updated patient count. I returned to the female subject in the road and began CPR. I continued CPR on the patient until Mercyside Rescue units arrived and took over care of the patient.

The operator of the Prius was extricated by Hillwood Fire/Rescue and transported by Mercyside Rescue Unit 732 to Hillwood General Hospital. The operator of the Explorer was also extricated by Hillwood Fire/Rescue and was transported by Mercyside Rescue Unit 735 to Hillwood General Hospital. The passenger of the Explorer was transported by AirMed helicopter to an out of state trauma center for emergency surgery. Female subject in the roadway was declared dead on the scene by Mercyside Rescue Unit 735 paramedic. Case turned over to Detective Bureau and Accident Reconstruction Team for further investigation.

 **Deputy R. W. Lloyd**

Rhonda stared at the screen. The narrative was complete, at least for her part, but it still felt empty. It was a recitation of fact. But it was nothing else. It didn't describe the mother's anguished cries over her child. It didn't cover the guilt of a man who had made a huge mistake when he crossed the center line. It didn't cover the pain Rhonda felt at being totally helpless to save a little girl who had barely begun her life. It couldn't involve any of those things. She was simply a human video camera, relaying the things she saw into words so that it could be given to a court room. But it did nothing for _her_. What was she supposed to do? How did she keep going when she felt so _broken_?

* * *

 **1729**

Helga had finished her workout, showered, and changed back into her street clothes. As she walked through the road room to the exit, she saw Rhonda sitting at one of the computers. She had her elbows on the desk and her hands steepled in front of her, the fingertips touching her lips, as she stared at the computer screen.

"Hey Princess," Helga said as she walked through the room. As she opened the door to leave, she noticed that Rhonda didn't move or even acknowledge her presence. "Hey, Rhondaloid. What's up?"

Rhonda didn't turn her head. "How do you deal with it?" she muttered.

"With which part?"

Rhonda finally turned to look at her. Her eyes were glassy, the tears barely kept at bay. "I tried to save her. But I couldn't."

Helga grabbed a chair and pulled it next to Rhonda. "That's all you can do, Princess. Even if she had been thrown into an operating theater with a full surgical staff instead of a street she still would have died. You have no control over that. You do what you can, and you have to be content with the fact that you did everything in _your_ power to fix something that was caused by someone else's negligence."

"She was six. She shouldn't be dead in a street. She should be on the swings at the park, or playing tag, or any of a bazillion things kids should be doing besides laying broken on the asphalt."

Helga shrugged. "That's all true. But it's not your fault she ended up there. Maybe that jackass in the Prius shouldn't have been texting when he came around that corner. Or maybe mom should've actually read the instructions to the car seat and installed it correctly."

Rhonda scoffed angrily. "She shouldn't be dead, either way."

"Hey, Rhonda, you can't have life without death. That's just the way this whole ridiculous rollercoaster of existence _works_. It doesn't matter who deserves it or doesn't. It just matters that it happens, and we have to deal with it as best we can."

Rhonda turned her head back to the computer screen. "How many have you seen?"

"Dead kids?"

Rhonda nodded. "Yeah."

Helga looked down at the floor. "Two. One an accident, like yours, except dad was driving drunk. The other was an unattended death, terminal disease."

Rhonda looked back at her. "How do you deal with them?"

Helga gave a sad smile. "Tetris."

Rhonda furrowed her brow in confusion. "Tetris?"

"Yup. I play Tetris."

Rhonda crossed her arms and looked at Helga angrily. "Pataki, this isn't a fucking joke."

Helga's head snapped up and she scowled at Rhonda. "I'm not making it one. I heard an interview with a woman who studied video games and the brain. They found a correlation between playing games that involved a lot of visual stimuli and PTSD. Specifically, they used Tetris. She said that playing it for a ten-minute span in a six-hour window after the traumatic event helps to prevent flashbacks. Something about flushing the images out of the visual center of the brain. And since flashbacks are the hardest part of PTSD to treat, it simplifies the process." Helga leaned back and put her hands on the top of her head. "Maybe it's real, or maybe it's just placebo effect. Either way, I can't really remember the visual details of either one. Not being able to see it in my mind's eye let's me get over it faster. Not that you ever _really_ do, but at least it doesn't sit in your subconscious and fester. It helps me. Maybe it can help you."

Rhonda seemed to deflate. "No matter what I do, I know I won't be able to forget this. There are all these… thoughts. Feelings. Floating around my head right now. And I don't even know how to articulate them."

Helga let out a sigh. _I'm going to regret this, I know it._ "There is something else I do that helps me with that part."

Rhonda looked up at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation that would help her get over the whole mess.

"I, uh, I kinda, sorta, write… stuff," Helga said as she started to lose her nerve.

"What kind of stuff?" Rhonda asked, genuinely interested. Helga muttered something unintelligible. Rhonda frowned. "I didn't quite catch that."

"Poetry," Helga replied more forcefully, still refusing to make eye contact.

Rhonda gave her a wide-eyed stare. "Poetry?"

Helga's frustration grew. "Yeah, you know. Flowery prose, rhymes, quatrains, Shakespearian Sonnets. Whatever strikes my fancy. Fuckin' poetry. You need me to spell it out for you?" Helga stood up quickly and started to walk for the door.

"Wait."

Helga stopped and turned back to Rhonda. Rhonda stood up and walked over to her. Helga tensed as Rhonda wrapped her arms around the blond woman and pulled her into a hug. Helga's first instinct was to push Rhonda away from her, but she fought the urge and instead stood awkwardly while trying to figure out what exactly she should do with her hands. She finally settled for a light pat on the back. "Uh, there-there?" she said.

Rhonda let out a noise that was half sob and half laugh. "Yeah, I get it. Big, bad Helga the Harpy doesn't know how to deal with a hug that doesn't involve Arnold. But I just… need this for a minute. And you're the only one here."

Helga let the hug go on for a few more moments before she finally felt too uncomfortable. "Okay, okay. Enough with the touchy-feely shit, Lloyd." Her words were forceful but her tone was soft, and she pushed Rhonda away gently.

"Uh, thanks Sarge," Rhonda said quietly.

Helga regarded her curiously. "You sure you still want to come out of your village festivals for this shit? It's not for everyone."

Rhonda didn't hesitate in her answer. "Yes. I'm sure."

Helga smiled at her. "Good answer, Princess." She slapped Rhonda's shoulder. "You're alright. Forget all those terrible things I ever said about you. Well, most of them anyway." Helga gave her a wink.

Rhonda snorted a laugh. "You're a fucking bitch, Pataki."

Helga's smile turned into a satisfied grin. "Ah, now you sound like a cop. Now go download Tetris and play it for ten minutes before you leave. That's an order."

Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Whatever you say, Sergeant Harpy." Rhonda walked back to her computer. "Now leave me alone, I've gotta finish this accident report so my asshole supervisor doesn't get on my case about it."

Helga laughed. "I'll have a talk with her about it. Play your game, then get the hell out of here. That's also an order. We'll deal with that report tomorrow."

Rhonda waved at her dismissively over her shoulder. "Nah, I got this. Now go meet Mr. Goody-two-shoes and do whatever it is you two do."

"Hey, you don't need to tell me twice." Helga turned to leave but stopped. "You need anything, you call me, okay?"

Rhonda looked at her with tired eyes and smiled weakly. "Yeah, thanks."

Helga nodded at her and left Rhonda alone with her accident report. And a smart phone downloading Tetris.

* * *

 **1807**

Arnold unlocked the door and began to open it, but the knob burst out of his hand as the door slammed open. A tall, blond blur leapt through the doorway, throwing its arms around his neck and causing him to stumble and land on his back on the floor. The blur, which had finally resolved itself into one Helga Pataki, grabbed his cheeks and kissed him deeply and passionately. It was long, even for an excited Helga, and Arnold eventually had to push her off him to catch his breath. He blushed deeply.

"That was a fine how-do-you-do."

Helga smiled at him as she brushed her hand through his hair. "I missed you. A lot."

"I missed you too, beautiful. But you've never said hello quite like that before."

Helga's smile dimmed slightly. "Bad call today."

Arnold stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. "Wanna talk about it?"

"Maybe later. For now, I just want to enjoy the fact that I'm alive." She kissed him again then smiled. "And with you."

Arnold moved his hands to her waist. "I very much enjoy the current… situation. But perhaps we could retire to someplace a little more comfortable. The couch perhaps?"

"Perhaps. Or perhaps someplace a little more… intimate."

Arnold arched an eyebrow. "Well, the bedroom is available. If m'lady wishes it."

Helga stood up and offered her hand to help him up. "She does, peasant."

Arnold stood with a chuckle. "I can't even get a knight's status, huh?"

Helga wrapped one arm around his neck while the other trailed down the front of his shirt. "The lady of the keep is willing to entertain the idea of promoting you to squire."

Arnold put an arm under her legs and swept her up, eliciting a surprised squeak. "Then I shan't keep m'lady waiting."

Helga giggled as he began carrying her to the bedroom. "Criminy, you're sexy." She began kissing down the side of his neck. They approached the bed and Arnold carefully placed Helga on top of it. "Such a gentleman. I take it back. With your manners you're clearly a fellow of noble upbringing."

Arnold climbed on the bed and laid next to her, sliding his hand along the bottom of her shirt and pulling it up slightly, exposing just the slightest bit of her belly. "I can be polite when the situation calls for it." He leaned in to kiss her as he slid his hand under her shirt and around her back. He ran his fingers lightly over her skin. Helga moaned softly.

"You say that as though you can be anything _other_ than polite."

She started unbuttoning his shirt as the lip-lock continued. "Arnold… take off… my shirt… you yutz," she said in between kisses.

"Yes'm," he mumbled before beginning to pull the t-shirt over her head. Helga released his shirt only long enough for him to pull her own garment above her head. She immediately returned to the last few buttons on his flannel and exposed his chest. She ran her fingers over his toned chest and began kissing down his neck as Arnold's fingers went to work on the button of her jeans.

She hooked her fingers into the waistband of his flannel pajama pants and gave them a tug, but his position on the bed prevented her from making any progress in removing them. "Off… Now…" she whispered.

Arnold broke the kiss, hopped off the bed and hurriedly removed his pants, leaving himself standing in his boxers. Helga propped herself up on her elbows and smirked at him. "Your lance is showing, sir knight."

"I hope you're prepared for a tilt then, my dear."

Helga gestured at her pants with both hands. "I believe I'm improperly attired for that activity."

Arnold grinned and reached to pull at the legs of the jeans but stopped when he spotted a potential obstacle. "Um, Helga?"

"Criminy, Arnoldo, I'm literally _telling_ you to get in my pants and you're _still_ dawdling?"

Arnold crossed his arms with a satisfied smile. "Your shoes are still on."

Helga looked down at her feet and saw her shoes were indeed still on and tied. "Oh, for the love of…" She jumped off the bed and began frantically clawing at her shoes. Arnold chuckled, earning himself a powerful bump from Helga's hip that caused him to fall onto the bed. Shoes hastily removed, Helga shimmied out of her jeans and left the on the floor.

Arnold rolled over onto his back. "That was hot," he said with a smile.

Helga placed her hands on her hips and gave him an amused look. "Oh yeah?"

Arnold nodded. "Yup."

She climbed back on the bed and hovered above him, reaching down to give his manhood a gentle squeeze. Arnold jumped, and she smirked. "This is pretty hot too." Arnold traced his hand up her arm to her shoulder and pulled her down to lay on top of him. Arnold drew her into a kiss and slid his hand down her back to the clasp of her bra. Helga pulled her lips off his and grabbed his hand. "N-no. Could you, um, leave that on?"

Arnold frowned. "What's wrong?"

Helga's eyes darted around nervously. "Nothing's wrong. It's just chilly in here and I, uh, want to keep warm." She met Arnold's eyes and could tell he wasn't convinced. She sighed in defeat. _He sees right through me._ "I just don't want you to be… disappointed."

"Helga, you remember I've felt them before, right?"

"Well, yeah, but you've never, you know. _Seen_ them. I'm not exactly stacked, Hair Boy."

Arnold placed his hands on the sides of her face. "Helga, you need to believe me when I say this. I really do not care how big your boobs are. I don't care if you have freckles, or a unibrow, or extra toes. I love _you_. All of you. You can leave it on if it makes you feel better. But you don't have to do that for _me_."

She wrapped her fingers around his and nuzzled into one hand. She smiled even as she blushed and closed her eyes. "I adore you, you know."

"And I you." Helga opened her eyes and reached behind her, unclasping the bra. "Sure you're ready?"

Helga removed the bra and smiled at him. "I wouldn't be doing it otherwise." She flicked his nose with her finger. "Besides, I'm still wearing my underpants, and I want us to take our time getting into those." She ground her hips into his, causing him to groan. "Now shut up and make love to me, paste for brains."

* * *

 **1920**

Helga laid on her side, Arnold's arms wrapped tightly around her. If she was being honest, the sex had been… meh. She hadn't reached climax, and it had been somewhat short. She wasn't surprised by that, considering it had been years since either of them had taken anyone to bed. _He's going to hate my new 'Shortman' jokes._ But that was an almost secondary concern for her. She and Arnold had actually _made love_. The physical part would get better in time, as they began to learn what the other liked and disliked. But the emotional part, the love, was there. She squeezed Arnold's hand and smiled to herself. _Love is a hell of a drug,_ she thought. _And I've never been happier._

Arnold squeezed her hand back and she rolled over to look at him. "There's my angel," he whispered. Helga began giggling. "What'd I say?"

"So that makes me Sergeant Angel?"

"Absolutely not. You're _much_ prettier than Simon Pegg." Helga averted her eyes as her cheeks turned red. "So, you're feeling better about today?"

Helga nodded. "Much."

"You wanna talk about it at all?"

This time she shook her head. "Not really."

Arnold frowned. "Helga, you know you can share anything with me, right?"

"Look, I just don't want to talk about it, okay?" She immediately felt bad for snapping at him. She rolled over again, so she wouldn't have to face him. She heard him sigh. _I really don't want to talk about a dead child when we just made love for the first time. But I need to give him something._

"Geraldine," she muttered.

"Huh?"

"Geraldine," she repeated. She turned to look at him again. "The 'G.' It stands for Geraldine. Only Phoebe knows. Well, and my family, I guess."

"Geraldine," he repeated. He tightened his arms around her again. "Helga Geraldine Pataki. It's lovely." She smiled and wiggled closer to him. "I love you, Helga Geraldine Pataki," he whispered into her ear.

"I love you too, Arnold Football Head Shortman," she said with a smirk.

 **A/N: The Tetris thing actually works for me. I forget what podcast I heard that interview on. It may have been the Nerdist but it was at least a year ago and I can't remember the name of the woman being interviewed. The accident is based on a real one that one of our guys had. I was not there so I'm extrapolating the details. The child was ejected from the vehicle because an improperly installed car seat.**

 **Rhonda performed appropriate triage on a scene like this. A patient in obvious arrest would be ignored until the other patients are assessed. If another patient is breathing but has an immediate life threat (for example, an arterial bleed), you would treat that patient first because their life can still be saved. Patients in trauma arrest have extremely low chances of survival even with immediate CPR. I thankfully have never had to conduct triage on a scene, but it's a big part of dealing with any sort of 'mass casualty' event.**

 **Many thanks to Call Me Nettie for reading over the last scene for me!**

 **Nep2uune: Rhonda has learned very quickly it's not just about excitement.**


	66. Chapter 65 - Lonely Lloyd

**Lonely Lloyd**

 **October 11,** **1454**

Helga was exhausted. She was dirty. She was sweaty. And worst of all, she was hungry. And when it came to Helga G. Pataki, hungry very quickly devolved into hangry. She walked into a bustling road room. The shift was changing, and the outgoing crew had been busy. The computers were all occupied, and half a dozen deputies busily chatted, wrote reports, and gathered their equipment.

Except one.

Helga glanced over at Rhonda standing in the doorway to the booking room. She was simply watching the scene. Helga's eyes narrowed. _She didn't have any calls of her own today, so why does she look like she's waiting for a computer?_ Helga opened the gun locker and put her patrol rifle inside, but she kept her eyes on Rhonda. The raven-haired deputy wasn't engaging anyone in conversation, she was just standing there, watching. _She doesn't even have a reason to_ be _here at shift change. She has a take-home car_.

Helga walked over to the aloof deputy. "Lloyd, a word?" Helga jerked her head toward the hallway.

Rhonda looked over at her, a mix of curiosity and apprehension in her eyes. "Uh, sure, Sarge."

The two walked away from the bustling road room and down the hall toward the Sergeant's office.

"Alright Princess, spill. What's going on?"

Rhonda blinked. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

Helga rolled her eyes. "Listen, I know you didn't have any calls of your own today, so you're not waiting to write reports. You're not dropping off your car, and you're not here for any administrative purpose. So, what exactly are you doing creeping on the road room?"

Helga expected an indignant response to her accusation but was surprised when Rhonda began to wring her hands and look away. "I, uh, I dunno. I guess I just kinda wanted to, you know… see the guys for a minute."

Helga raised an eyebrow at that response. _Curious. Rhonda usually avoids this place like the plague. Or a chain clothing store._ "You're suddenly feeling fond of your fellow deputies?"

Rhonda didn't look back but simply shrugged. "After you were riding around with Arnold for a while, did you really want to go back to being alone all the time?"

"No, I suppose I didn't. Is that what this is about? You're getting out of your isolation and now you're looking for interaction?"

Rhonda resumed the hand wringing. "Um, maybe. But no one seems all that interested in talking to me. I guess after three years here I'm still an outsider."

Helga was not used to seeing the normally haughty Rhonda acting so vulnerable, even fragile. Helga crossed her arms. "No one is talking to you at all, huh?"

Rhonda shrugged and finally looked back at Helga with what may have been sadness in her eyes. "Not really. Just the usual 'hey, how are ya' kind of stuff."

"Listen Rhonda, you can't force them to accept you right away. You've been hidden away ever since you finished field training. You're going to have earn it back in their eyes. It's a process. It'll take time."

"I know, Sarge. I guess I'll just head out. I'll see you Friday." Rhonda offered a weak smile and walked past the blond.

Helga bowed her head for a moment. _This chick is gonna kill me, I swear._ "Lloyd," she said as she turned around.

Rhonda stopped and looked back at Helga. "Yeah?"

Helga sighed. "The bar down the street, two hours. Gerald has a special detail tonight, so we're one light on our normal crew."

Rhonda furrowed her brow. "You're asking me to come hang out with you and Arnold?"

"And Phoebe. Mostly Phoebe. She'll feel like a third wheel without someone else there. So, keep her company."

Rhonda smiled. "Well, if it's for your friend, then I suppose I can do you the favor."

"Good. Don't be late, because I'm fucking starving. And don't wear any of the designer clothing shit I see you flouncing about in at the Union dinners and whatnot. It's a bar, not a New York fashion show."

Rhonda huffed and crossed her arms. "I like to be comfortable as much as the next person, Pataki. I know when to dress down."

"Good. Then prove it to me," Helga said as she walked into the women's locker room.

Rhonda turned and headed for the door to the motor pool. As she reached for the handle the door opened, revealing a blond deputy on the other side.

"Nadine," Rhonda said curtly.

"Oh. Uh, hey Rhonda. How's it going?"

"I'm well. Yourself?"

"Um, I'm doing alright." The stood in awkward silence for a moment. "Hey, Rhon-"

"It's been lovely talking to you, Nadine," Rhonda interrupted before brushing past her and walking briskly into the motor pool.

Nadine sighed. "Yeah, you too," she muttered to no one in particular.

* * *

 **1721**

So far, Helga wasn't impressed. Rhonda had shown up on time, alright. But she was wearing stylish, expensive clothes. And she was already using that affected, snotty tone of voice she always seemed to use in the past. It wasn't the Rhonda she had seen the past few weeks at the office. The one that was a real person, with insecurities and emotions. She was playing a role. And Helga was pissed.

"Phoebe, I think you would look just _lovely_ if you traded that sweater for something a little bit more flattering."

Phoebe looked uncomfortable and tugged at the sleeves of her sweater. "Um, thank you Rhonda…"

 _Okay, that's enough._ "Princess, come grab a drink with me," Helga growled.

"Oh, thank you, I'm fine."

Helga grabbed her wrist. "It's not a _request_ , Lloyd," she whispered. They left a perplexed Arnold and a relieved Phoebe at the table as they walked over toward the bar.

"What's the problem, Helga?" Rhonda asked.

"You, that's the problem. What's with the get up? And why are you talking like some haughty Hillwood socialite?"

Rhonda frowned. "This is who I _am_ , Helga."

"Really? How long have you been this much of a bitch?"

Rhonda placed her hands on her hips. "How _dare_ you speak to me like that!"

Helga crossed her arms and scowled. "I dare because you're insufferable, overbearing, and obnoxious."

Rhonda held her pose for a moment before she seemed to deflate. The look in her eyes appeared to be sadness rather than anger. Helga groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. _Everyone is wearing a mask in this fucking place. Is Arnold the only person on the planet that is unapologetic about who he is all the time?_ "You're afraid to let them see you as anything else, aren't you? And not for nothing, but you really need to work on your resistance to interrogation."

Rhonda looked down at the floor. "It's kinda who everyone _expects_ me to be. I'm not really sure how to _be_ anything else. And your power scowl is terrifying."

 _Power scowl?_ Helga thought. _I like that._ "Look, if you wanna hang out with your high society fashionistas, there's nothing wrong with that. But _this_ circle of cops isn't going to want to be judged on their fashion by you or anyone else. We honestly don't give a shit. Except maybe Phoebe, because I'm pretty sure you made her feel like crap for wearing her favorite sweater. Which, by the way, her mom made for her."

Rhonda looked mildly panicked. "I didn't mean to insult her at all!"

"Well you did, Lloyd. I can't imagine what you think of _my_ wardrobe, but I don't really care. My point is, if you're going to talk down to people around the office for something as ultimately trivial as what they're wearing when they're trying to relax, you're going to end up lonely and alone."

Rhonda frowned in confusion. "That sounds like a distinction without a difference."

"Nonsense. Alone means you're by yourself, with no one else physically around. Lonely means you have no one to connect with on some deeper level." Helga sighed. "Listen Rhonda, you're an okay person, and honestly I'm blurring the lines of what's acceptable as your supervisor by even inviting you out. Be the you that you want to be. This crew isn't going to judge you for it. If you want to spend your time rubbing elbows with the social elite of the county, then do it. But if you want to be friends with cops, you're gonna need to ease off that shit."

Rhonda looked back at the table. "I should probably just head home then," she muttered.

Helga sighed and rolled her eyes. "Rhonda, I'm not kicking you out. No one's that heartless, even me. Just… think about it, alright?"

"Yeah, okay," she said quietly as they returned to the table.

* * *

 **1945**

Rhonda trudged into her large and well-appointed apartment and dropped her keys on the small table beside the door. She had returned to the group and stayed for the remainder of the evening, but had said little, afraid that she would insult someone again. She walked into the bedroom and sat heavily on the large bed. She looked over at the mirror and examined her outfit. If she was being honest with herself, she really did enjoy the fashion world. It was entertaining to her, a hobby. She liked her manicures, her fancy jewelry, having her hair done, fancy parties with too many forks on the table. She always had. It was a world in which she had been raised and she knew it well.

Her eyes shifted toward the uniform shirt that was hung on the closet door. She kept her uniform looking good and proper, which was more than could be said for some of her fellow deputies. She remembered the instructors from the academy talking about how criminals tended to follow instructions from officers that looked like they knew their stuff and were more likely to fight with a cop that looked sloppy. But it was a distinct contrast with the fancy world she had come of age in. She ultimately looked like every other cop in the department. There was no room for individuality in dress beyond the way you set up your gun belt and perhaps which brand of black combat boots you chose.

But that didn't mean she was like the rest of them. She was different, and they didn't hesitate to remind of her of that. Almost to a man, they were kids from working class households, only a few had college educations. Fewer still came from families that didn't need student loans for school. And no one else had buildings on university campuses named after family members. Rhonda was set apart from all of them because of who her parents were. She had no say in that, but she was judged more harshly because of it. Despite choosing the career, she would always be the kid of wealthy parents who was simply _playing_ cop until she got bored and decided to get on with her life.

Rhonda kicked off her designer shoes and walked to the closet. She exchanged her expensive blouse and fancy skirt for a pair of red pajama pants and her police academy sweatshirt. As she closed the door, she looked at the uniform shirt again. She carefully removed the badge from the chest and held it in her hand. It was the first one she had been issued. It had taken a dull yellow color from years of grime and dirt and had lost its gold luster. She began to walk through the apartment as she gazed at the star in her hand.

Growing up she had been a haughty bitch. She knew it, she didn't shy from it. It was, for better or worse, part of her journey to where she was now. She still acted like that sometimes. She knew that too. She had done it tonight to Phoebe, although she hadn't meant to. In school she had been obsessed with popularity and often used fashion to define it. She threw lavish parties and adored the attention of being hostess. But it hadn't all been roses and caviar for her. She rode the bus to a public school, even though her parents could easily have afforded other transportation or a private education. And she had played sports with the boys when she was younger. Rhonda had been an impressive wide receiver when she played tackle football with the boys in elementary and middle school. She even sacrificed some of her nice outfits for a few muddy touchdowns.

Rhonda found herself standing in front of the hallway closet where she kept her cleaning supplies. She hadn't recalled walking there on purpose. She turned the badge over in her hands before opening the door. She pulled out a bottle of polish and a few rags. The polish had only ever been used to clean her fancy silverware and some jewelry. In three years at the office, she had never once tried to clean her badge.

Today that was going to change. Rhonda knew she didn't want to leave her job, her career, and go back to being some haughty socialite that ultimately contributed little to the world. But if Helga G. Pataki could be who she was and still be a cop, then Rhonda Wellington Lloyd could keep her fancy clothes and expensive baubles while finding a way to be "one of the boys." They weren't mutually exclusive. She'd show Helga that she could find a way to make it work.

She was going to start by making sure her badge looked damned good.

 **A/N: Cupcake Artist – Mostly to tease, though initially it would be about the duration. She's Helga. She simply MUST tease Arnold, even if it's a** _ **little**_ **mean. I'm really not going to go into detail describing his junk, so I leave his endowment up to the reader's imagination. Fantasize away ;)**


	67. Chapter 66 - Old Friends

**Old Friends**

 **October 14, 1734**

Helga walked carefully over to her mirror, trying to balance in her new shoes. _Arnold is lucky I love him. Otherwise I'd never be wearing these stupid heels._ She examined herself in the mirror, satisfied with her first solo application of eye shadow. She was about to apply her lipstick when the phone on the night table started ringing.

"Arnold, phone!" she yelled. The phone continued to ring, and she could see the caller ID said it was the office. _Maybe he shouldn't answer it. Nothing good is going to come from it._ "Hey, Football Head! Come answer your phone!" The phone continued ringing but still she heard nothing from Arnold. "For the love of…" Helga put the lipstick down and answered the phone. "You've reached the phone of Football Head Shortman, oddly shaped craniums a specialty. How may I direct your call?"

"Uh, hey Helga. That was… unique."

"What's up, Eugene? I'm trying to get ready for a fancy dinner."

"Oh. Well, I, um, _might_ have bad news."

Helga frowned. "Do _not_ say what I think you're going to say. No one took that overtime tonight?"

"Um, no."

"And Arnold is getting mandated, isn't he?"

"Um, yes."

Helga sighed. "Okay, I'll tell him he has to be in at 3 AM."

"Oh, well, you see, that's another part of the problem."

Eugene could feel Helga's stare even though he couldn't see her. "What problem?" Helga asked flatly.

"Everyone on the C line is already on a double so none of them can get mandated for half. Arnold has to cover the whole eight hours."

Helga's free hand curled into a fist. "No, Eugene. This is his birthday dinner. It's the first night the four of us have been able to get together since his birthday. You _can't_ ruin this night for us. For him."

"I'm sorry. I've called everyone-"

"Call them again," Helga interrupted.

"Sarge, you know I can't do that. Nadine is the only one that said yes."

"Fine, Eugene. Fine. I'll tell him. Thanks for nothing." She hung up and gripped the phone tightly in her hand, angry tears beginning to well up in her eyes. _Fuck my life. And now I have to apologize to Eugene._ "Arnold! Get your ass in here, now!"

"Alright, alright. What's the commotion about?" Arnold entered the room while fumbling with his tie.

"Eugene called. You're mandated. At 11."

Arnold froze. "Really? Tonight?"

Helga nodded. "Yep."

"And no one wants it, huh?" The disappointment in his voice nearly broke Helga's heart.

"I guess not. And you're low man on B line tomorrow."

"What is this even for, anyway?"

"Suspicious fire scene. Two people just sitting in a car all night. At least you can get some sleep."

"Who am I with?"

"Nadine."

Arnold sighed. "Alright. I'll change and try to nap for an hour or two."

Arnold turned to walk out when Helga held up a hand. "Wait." Arnold stopped and gave her a curious look. "There's someone I can try for a favor."

"Who?" Arnold asked, genuinely perplexed.

Helga picked up her own phone. "I'm going to regret this," she muttered.

"Helga! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I need a favor, Lloyd."

"Favors? Have we reached that point in our relationship?"

"Rhonda," she groaned. "Please. It's Arnold's birthday dinner."

"I thought his birthday was days ago?"

"It was, but this is the first night we could all get together."

"Isn't this an arson detail? One of those things where you just sit in the car all night?"

"Yeah, you now, easy money."

There was a moment of silence as Rhonda thought it over. "Who would I be with?"

"Nadine."

"No!"

Helga flinched. "No? What's wrong with Nadine?"

"It doesn't matter, I said no! I will _not_ work with that woman!"

Helga was genuinely confused by the sudden outburst. "What's the deal, Princess? Weren't you guys friends? You came through the academy together."

"It's not important. I'm sorry Pataki, but you're going to have to find someone else."

Helga was starting to feel desperate. She waved Arnold out of the room. She turned her attention back to the phone when he was out of earshot. "Rhonda, please. No one else will do me a favor around that place."

"Helga, I'm serious. You don't know what you're asking of me. Nadine and I, we had a pretty big falling out and I _really_ don't think I can be in a car with her for ten minutes, let alone eight hours."

"Rhonda… I'm wearing heels."

The silence dragged on for so long that Helga glanced at the screen to make sure the call hadn't been dropped.

"You're what?" Rhonda finally said.

"I'm wearing heels, Rhonda."

"Didn't you say during that prostitution sting that you'd never worn heels?"

"Yes. Yes, I did."

"But you're wearing heels now."

Helga let out an exasperated sigh. "Yes, Rhonda, I'm wearing fucking heels, okay? And they make my legs look awesome, so you were right. And I'm wearing makeup, and I got this pretty pink dress, and he looks so God damned sexy in a suit and dammit Rhonda _please_ help me out here!"

"Fine. I'll do it. But you owe me _huge_ for this."

Helga nearly squealed in delight but kept it in check. "I know I do. Whatever you want."

"Be careful what you agree to, Double H."

"Say what-now?"

"Helga the Harpy. Double H. Is it not good? I'm new to the nicknames thing."

Helga groaned. "We'll work on it. And Rhonda?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Uh, yeah. Don't mention it. Now enjoy dinner."

* * *

 **2256**

Rhonda pulled into the yard, carefully avoiding the crisscrossed hoses and fire engines that surrounded the still smoldering barn. Firefighters were drowning the site in water and pulling apart hay bales while they waited for a bulldozer to more effectively put out the slow-burning mess. Nadine's K9 truck was already parked at the scene. Rhonda sighed. _Why does policy require us to be in the same car? I'd be happier here._ "Two Five Five to Sheriff's Office. Out at last."

Rhonda sat for another moment, putting off the inevitable as long as she could. _Why am I doing this for_ Helga _of all people?_ Rhonda opened the door and stepped out as rain started to fall. She looked up and frowned at the sky. _Because for some reason you can't explain, she actually seems to care about you. That's why._ A slight smile formed on Rhonda's face as she started walking toward Nadine's SUV. She could practically hear Helga's voice in her own head, saying "Embrace the suck, Rhondaloid." She grasped the door handle and got into the passenger seat. She immediately wrinkled her nose. "It smells like a dead, wet dog in here."

Nadine looked at her in shock. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"Obviously not enjoying the fragrance. How do you stand this?"

Nadine shrugged. "You get smell blind to it. But really, why are you _here_? You knew I was working this, right?"

"I knew," Rhonda grumbled.

"And you still came?"

"Must you state the obvious? Obviously, I did, because I'm right here."

"Right…" Nadine began wringing her hands. "So, um, how are you doing?"

"I'm not here to make small talk, Nadine. I'm here so that Arnold didn't get forced in and could celebrate his birthday with Helga and his friends. It's a favor. That's all."

"Oh. I see." Nadine looked down at her hands and the silence stretched on. "You and Helga are… friends now?"

Rhonda picked at her fingernails even though they weren't the slightest bit dirty. "Jealous?"

Nadine nodded. "Uh, yes. I am."

Rhonda froze for a moment and slowly looked over to woman next to her. "You have the balls to say that to me? After what you did?"

"Rhonda, I didn't _do_ anything!"

"Didn't do anything? Didn't do _anything_?! You did _everything_! It's because of you that I'm a joke around this office!"

"Don't blame me just because you can't get out of your own way, Rhonda." Nadine was getting angry. "You could have made a name for yourself if you stopped hobnobbing and started actually doing work."

"I never had a fucking _chance_. You got me banished to that stupid community policing post!"

"You love socializing and feeling like the center of attention. Don't act like you hated it."

"I didn't _hate_ it, but I didn't _choose_ it."

"What do you mean? I thought you wanted it?"

Rhonda examined her former friend's face. _She actually seems confused._ "Is that what you told them?"

Nadine shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yeah. I… I really thought you wanted it," She said softly.

"No, what I really wanted was K9. But you clearly had other ideas. You threw it out there that I wanted a post I didn't, and you got the one I _wanted_."

"But Rhonda, they wouldn't have given you the dog. You live in an apartment. You know how they are about the dogs. They have to be kenneled away from the house." Nadine raised her voice as the rain increased in tempo to a full downpour.

"That was a decision for them to make on their own, Nadine. Not with your influence. And you want to know the best part of the whole thing? The best part is, they thought giving me what I wanted was going to get a nice fat donation from my father to the Sheriff's re-election campaign. When that didn't happen, the Sheriff's lapdog, Sergeant Swanson, started tearing everything I did apart. He made my life miserable. I was more afraid of what he was going to scream at me for than what the shitbags on the road were going to do to me. So I stopped looking for things to get into, because it was more trouble than it was worth. I got fucked by who my dad is, and I got fucked by my so-called best friend."

"It was an accident. I thought-"

"Yeah, well there's your problem. Fucking ask me instead."

Rhonda opened the car door. "Where are you going?"

"For a walk. I don't want to talk about any of this bullshit anymore." Rhonda stepped out into the pouring rain and slammed the door shut. She crossed her arms and started walking around the fire scene, watching the firefighters going about their business as water soaked through her uniform. The night was cold, and she started to shiver as she made a full orbit of the scene. There was no visible fire to warm herself by, but she didn't want to get back in Nadine's car. _Still, I have a car to get into to get warm if I want. These poor guys are wearing that water-logged turn-out gear in the rain._ Rhonda walked back to Nadine's car. She opened the door but didn't get in. "I'll be back in ten minutes," she said hurriedly and slammed the door shut before Nadine could respond.

Rhonda jumped back in her own car, thankful that the engine was still warm enough to blast the heat to take the chill from her wet uniform. She left the scene and drove to the 24-hour gas station that was a few miles down the road. The clerk treated her far too happily for that time of night, though Rhonda figured she was probably just happy to see a human being that wasn't buying cigarettes or lottery tickets at that time of night. Rhonda poured out ten cups of coffee and grabbed a few fistfuls of sugars and creamers. She poured two more cups, this time adding the sugar and creamers herself. She carefully placed the cardboard carriers for the cups on the floor in the back seat of her car and went back in to pay the clerk.

"Picking up for the whole office tonight?" the woman asked cheerily.

 _This woman is much too perky for such a miserable night._ "Barn fire scene down the road. I thought I'd get some for the firefighters tonight." _And I thought it would at least give me 20 minutes away from Nadine._

Rhonda pulled out her wallet but hadn't even removed her credit card before the clerk said, "You're all set!"

Rhonda looked at her and blinked. "Pardon?"

"It's on the house."

"Oh, well, thank you, but I'd really rather pay."

"Nope, company policy. First responders get coffee and tea for free. Hope you have a great night!" the woman said with a smile.

Rhonda huffed and put her credit card away. She pulled out a $10 bill and placed it in the tip jar, which only caused the woman to smile more. Rhonda beat a hasty retreat out the door before the woman could engage her in further conversation. She carefully drove back to the scene and removed the two prepared cups before bringing the carriers with the bag of sugar and creamer over to the Fire Chief. He thanked her profusely and placed everything in the cab of one of the engines before pulling his crew off the scene one by one to have a hot drink.

Rhonda returned to her car and grabbed the last two cups before sitting in the passenger seat of Nadine's SUV.

"Here," she said brusquely as she thrust one of the cups at the other woman.

"Uh, thanks." Nadine took the cup but looked at Rhonda curiously. "Did you get any creamer or anything?"

"Two cream, one sugar. I remember," Rhonda said without looking at her.

Nadine looked down at the cup for a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry, Rhonda. About everything. You were my best friend and I… I screwed it all up."

"Look, I really don't want to talk about this right now. I just want to drink this coffee and then sleep. It's been a very long day."

Nadine nodded sadly. "Sure. And thanks. For the coffee."

Rhonda didn't say anything. She finished her coffee in silence and closed her eyes, grateful that Nadine finally got the hint. Rhonda figured she would sleep for an hour or two and then Nadine could take her turn. It wasn't long before Rhonda drifted into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

 **October 14, 2312**

Helga entered her apartment and tossed her keys on the kitchen table. She quickly kicked off her shoes and reveled in being free from the fashion prison. _Not sure heels are worth it,_ she thought. Before she could take a deep breath, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and two soft lips pressed against the right side of her neck. She smiled and tilted her head slightly to grant the lips better access while she placed her hands over the two that were clasped near her belly button. She moaned softly.

"I've barely gotten my shoes off, Football Head."

"That's alright. The shoes are the hardest part. Getting this dress off should be much easier," he said. He squeezed her gently. "Thank you for a wonderful birthday dinner."

Helga interlaced her fingers with his. "Even though it's a week late?"

"Even if it's a week late." Arnold's hands began sliding upward and settled on her breasts, causing her to gasp.

"Getting fresh, I see," she said with a giggle. Arnold turned her around and kissed her deeply on the lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss but stopped it before it continued too long. "Easy, lover boy. I still have to give your present."

"So, dinner and seeing you in this lovely dress weren't my presents?"

Helga blushed at his compliment. "You really like it?"

"You're always beautiful, Helga, but tonight you are sublime."

Helga couldn't contain her smile even as she lightly slapped his shoulder. "I know you can't lie, but I also can't help but feel as though you're trying to get me _out_ of this dress. Just give me a minute to get your present and then you can continue with telling me how great I am." She reluctantly broke their embrace and walked into her bedroom, returning a moment later with a large, gift-wrapped box. "For you, my love."

Arnold smiled and carefully unwrapped the box. He removed the lid and spread open the tissue paper inside. When he spotted the object inside he let out a laugh before removing it from inside.

"Do you like it?" Helga asked. She was biting her lip and he could tell she was nervous.

Arnold leaned in and kissed her cheek. "I love it. What Captain America fan doesn't want his shield?" Arnold hefted the metal reproduction and slid his arm through the leather straps. "It's definitely getting mounted on the wall. Thank you."

Helga pulled the shield off his arm and carefully put it back in the box. "I'm glad." She wrapped her arms around his neck again and looked into his emerald eyes. "Now, how about we head into the bedroom and you can tell me if this dress looks better on me or on the floor."

Arnold kissed her nose. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

 **October 15, 0645**

When Rhonda finally opened her eyes, the sky was beginning to brighten. She blinked the sleep from her eyes and looked at the vehicle clock. _6:45? I slept all night!_ Rhonda bolted upright. She looked at the blond woman next to her, who appeared to be reading something on her phone. "Nadine, why didn't you wake me?"

Nadine shrugged but didn't look up from her phone. "You seemed tired, so I stayed up all night. Don't worry about it." Nadine looked at the clock herself. "You can probably head out if you want. I'll wait for our relief. They should be here soon."

"You sure? You were here before me. I don't mind staying."

"Rhonda, you've made it pretty clear how much you don't want to be here. Just… go."

Rhonda could see the sadness on Nadine's face, but she decided that getting into things now, with only 15 minutes before their relief arrived, would not be a good idea. "Alright." Rhonda got out into the still driving rain. "Take care of yourself." She jogged over to her car and jumped in. She shivered as she started the engine and threaded her way out of the barn yard around the fire engines. A bucket loader had arrived during the night and was spreading the smoldering hay around so that the fire could be extinguished. The volunteer firefighters had been on the scene for 12 hours in the freezing rain, being miserable and not getting paid a dime for their troubles. Rhonda suddenly felt bad that she got to spend the entire night in a warm car while these men and women were working only a few yards away.

As she finally reached the main road and began the drive home to a hot shower and a warm bed, Rhonda's mind wandered back to her night with Nadine. _That woman is the whole reason I'm an outcast at that place. The reason I got stuck in a detail I didn't want. The reason I went back to being a haughty bitch to cover up the fact that I was so insecure about my police skills. The reason the Sheriff treats me like a leper._ Rhonda groaned. _So why the hell do I want to forgive her?_

 **A/N: Okay, so I'll admit that Call Me Nettie pointed out that I missed Arnold's birthday. Some retconning was required, but this is perfectly normal for cops. We miss lots of holidays, birthdays, and personal milestones. So celebrating pretty much anything on the day it actually happens is uncommon.**

 **Kryten: Hopefully this gives you some background on what happened.**

 **Call Me Nettie: Hopefully this solves that birthday problem in a satisfactory manner.**

 **Yali: Don't feel bad for Nadine. It's not solely Rhonda's fault they had a falling out.**

 **Nep2uune: Not exactly. This was a recent development.**

 **Timewarp: You're reading too much into it. There are other stories that address Rhondine and likely will do it better than I could.**

 **Imogen: No, Arnold was not. Neither of them were, they just weren't exactly well experienced. Helga because she hates people and Arnold because he's polite to a fault and doesn't take hints well. He may also have some bad experiences in his history (we'll address it at some point).**


	68. Chapter 67 - Shindig

**Shindig**

 **October 18, 1243**

Rhonda propped her arm on the door frame and leaned her head against her hand. The towns she covered weren't the best for running traffic, but there were one or two places to try to get good speeds. She was bored and stopping cars was a way to pass the time. And there was always the chance of finding drugs or a fugitive, however slim that chance may be. Another car lit up her radar with the unexciting speed of 57 in the 55 zone. Rhonda was relieved when her phone began ringing. She glanced quickly at the caller ID before answering.

"Hello mother."

"Rhonda, darling! You're not working, I hope?"

"I'm working, but I'm just running radar right now."

"Well I'm sure I don't know what that means." _Of course, you don't. You've never asked me about what I do,_ Rhonda thought. "Anyway, your father and I are having a soiree at the house this weekend. We hope that you can attend."

Rhonda smiled. It had been a while since she had attended one of her parents' upscale parties. _I can buy a new outfit, get my hair done, a manicure. This will be just what I need._ "It just so happens I'm free this weekend. I assume this will be a formal affair?"

"But of course! Would we do anything less?"

"No, I don't suppose you would. Should I bring anything?"

Her mother chuckled. "It's not some dreadful potluck dinner, Rhonda. We Lloyds would never debase ourselves so. Although your father and I would love to see you bring a date."

Rhonda rolled her eyes. "Mother…" she whined.

"You've never brought a gentleman to a party, Rhonda. Surely there must be _some_ one in your life."

"Yes, fine, there's someone. I will have a date." _Great, now I have to find a date to this thing. That might take all the fun out of it._

The radio crackled. "Hillwood 911 to any patrols in the area of the Village of Woodburn, respond to the area of 104 Main Street for a report of a bear chasing two male subjects down the street."

Rhonda sat silently for a moment, still holding the phone to her ear. _I've definitely never heard_ that _one before._

"Rhonda, did they just say a bear-"

"Yes, mother, they did. I think I have to go."

"Of course, dear. We'll chat later. And Rhonda?"

"Yes, mother?"

"Be careful, please."

Rhonda smiled. "I will mother."

* * *

 **1451**

The blond couple had just entered the hallway by the locker rooms when someone called from behind them.

"Ah, Helga! Arnold! Just the people I wanted to see!"

Helga rolled her eyes and turned around. "To what do we owe the pleasure, Princess?"

"I need to collect on that favor you owe me."

Helga crossed her arms. "Okay, what's the damage?"

"I need to go on a date with your boyfriend."

Helga and Arnold exchanged a confused look. "Come again?" Helga asked.

"I have a dinner party at my parents' place, and they're insisting I bring a date. So, I need Arnold to pretend to be my date for a night.

Helga opened her mouth to protest but Arnold answered first. "Sure."

Helga gave him an incredulous look. "What?"

Arnold shrugged. "We owe her one. This isn't a big deal."

"You can't on a date with another woman!" Helga yelled, throwing her hands in the air.

Arnold looked at Rhonda. "We'll be right back." Rhonda huffed and entered the road room while Arnold gently turned Helga down the hallway and began walking with her toward her office.

"What's the big idea, Football Head? You can't go on a date with Princess!"

"Helga, she needs someone to play a role. You don't need to feel threatened by this."

They entered Helga's office and Arnold shut the door behind them. "Threatened? By Rhonda Wellington Lloyd? Puh-lease." Helga scoffed and sat down heavily in her desk chair. She crossed her arms and stared straight ahead, not making eye contact with him.

Arnold smiled at her. "Oh, you're _definitely_ jealous."

"Okay, so what if I am? Can you blame me? It's only been a few months, and I'm expected to _share_ you?"

"It's not sharing, Blue. It's returning a favor." Arnold placed his hands on the arms of Helga's chair and leaned in to gently peck her lips. "Don't forget that amazing night we had because she did you that favor."

"How could I forget? But still, I don't like the idea of you going to some fancy party with Rhonda. Especially without me there." Helga pouted. "I have to make sure she doesn't get handsy."

Arnold laughed. "Helga, I really don't think Rhonda is going to make a move. If for no other reason than you would probably break her body and consume her soul."

Helga frowned. "Don't go getting dramatic or anything."

Arnold continued to smile. "Why are you worried about this? Really?"

She blushed and looked away. "I'm not. I'm totally fine with you going on a date with someone else."

"Helga…"

She sighed. "Because she's prettier than me," she whispered.

"First off, no, she's not. Not even remotely."

Helga scoffed. "Yeah, _you_ don't think she's pretty?"

"Of course, she is. She's just not prettier than you."

Helga's blush deepened. "Flattery will get you everywhere," she muttered.

"It's the truth. Second, I don't love her. I love _you_."

Helga fought to keep from swooning. "Why do you always know the right thing to say?"

"All I said was 'I love you.'"

Helga grinned at him. "And that's _always_ the right thing to say."

Arnold took her hand in his. "Look, this isn't a big deal. And on the bright side, _you_ don't even have to deal with the awkwardness. I'm the one walking into the lion's den."

"Ha! As if you'd hate eating good food all night."

"Helga, I'm a working-class kid. You really think I'm going to fit in at this… this shindig?"

Helga arched an eyebrow. "Shindig?"

Arnold pushed up off of her chair. "You're going to criticize my choice of words?"

"Of course not. I'm a poet. I always appreciate alternate word choices."

"So, are you okay with me going?"

"Not really."

"Come on, Rhonda is your friend."

Helga glared at him and pointed a finger. "She is _not_ my friend."

Arnold crossed his arms and returned her stare. "Bullshit."

Helga's eyes widened in surprise. "Pardon?"

"I call bullshit. She's your friend and you were always going to say yes to this. You just wanted to make her work for it."

"And yet here you are, doing it for her. At this point, I think you owe me a good time."

"Do I now?"

Helga stood and closed the distance between them. She ran her hand down the front of his chest. "We'll take care of that when you get home. And don't be late, or I can promise I'm going to have a meltdown."

Arnold took her hand in his and brought her fingers to his lips. "I won't be late. And the whole running your hand down my chest thing is much sexier when I'm not wearing body armor."

Helga shrugged. "I've only got so much to work with here."

"Is my uniform a problem?"

Helga smirked. "I wasn't talking about your uniform, _Short_ -man."

"You know, you're lucky I know you're talking about my endurance at the beginning and not my endowment. Otherwise, I'd be insulted."

Helga looked away and tapped a finger to her lip. "Well…"

Arnold's face fell. "Hey, that's-"

Helga giggled. "Relax, Football Head. You're the perfect size for me. Now go down to the road room and inform the Princess that you have my permission for _one_ date. No touching!"

Arnold turned to leave. "I'll let her know her _friend_ says it's okay."

"Don't push it, Geek Bait."

* * *

 **October 22, 1758**

Arnold nervously fiddled with his tie as he approached the door to the Lloyd estate. He already felt out of place and all he had done so far was put on the expensive suit that Rhonda had insisted on buying for him. Despite receiving Helga's permission to attend the party, she insisted on going with Rhonda and Arnold to see what Arnold was going to wear. Helga had said that she just wanted see if Rhonda actually had any taste for fashion, but Arnold knew she really just wanted to see him in the suit. It was a tasteful if reserved black three-button affair, with an emerald green vest and tie that certainly brought out his eyes. _At least if Helga's swoon was anything to judge by_ , he thought.

He paled in comparison to Rhonda, of course. She wore a dress of the same green that tightly clung to her hourglass figure. The right shoulder and arm were bare, but the left arm and shoulder were covered in a sleeve. The dress was cut at mid-thigh and trailed behind her.

Helga hadn't been too happy about Rhonda's appearance, but Arnold knew that had just been her insecurities talking. Rhonda was Helga's height, but while the blond was lithe and trim, built like a dancer, the dark-haired deputy possessed curves in all the right places. A definite winner of the genetic lottery, Helga was jealous of what she and many others considered a classic feminine ideal. But while Arnold could admit that Rhonda was a very attractive woman, it didn't matter to him in the least; no one could match Helga's beauty in his eyes. But when Helga decided to be insecure no one, not even her beloved Football Head, could snap her out of it. Not easily, anyway. _But her toned belly, those legs that go on for days, those eyes, her cute butt…_

"Arnold, darling, relax." Rhonda's voice pulled him from his love-sick daydream. "Just follow my lead and you'll be fine, I assure you."

Arnold frowned. Rhonda was putting on that affectation again, that fake speech pattern she always adopted when she was trying to impress people with her culture. "Whatever you say, Rhonda."

They entered the residence and were met by a butler who showed them in to the drawing room or some such. Arnold honestly wasn't really paying attention to the man but instead was overawed by the opulence on display. Paintings, hand-made furniture, and all manner of expensive looking things were scattered about. As they entered the room, all eyes turned to them. Arnold suddenly became very self-conscious.

"Mr. Arnold Shortman and Miss Rhonda Wellington Lloyd," the butler announced before turning smartly and returning to the foyer.

Rhonda smiled and began to make the rounds, introducing Arnold to a number of wealthy socialites, mostly people he would never remember, although a few were prominent officials or business persons that he knew.

"And these are my parents, Buckley and Brooke."

Arnold made sure to log those names away. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass Rhonda by forgetting her parents' names. "Mr. and Mrs. Lloyd, it's a pleasure to meet you." He extended his hand to shake theirs.

"Ah, Arnold. We've heard so much about you from our dear Rhonda," Buckley said. Arnold gave Rhonda a sidelong glance, but Rhonda have a slight shrug and a barely noticeable shake of the head. "Tell me, how did you two meet?"

"Oh, we work together."

Buckley frowned slightly. "Ah, so you're a deputy then?"

"Yes, sir."

"Shame."

"Dad…" Rhonda growled.

"Yes, yes. I know." He waved dismissively. "I was just hoping you were perhaps bringing someone of higher status in the community."

"Now Buckley, we've only just met the young man. Delighted, Arnold."

Arnold felt exceptionally self-conscious, and he could tell Rhonda was unhappy with her father's words. The conversation descended into polite small talk, and the Lloyds brought Arnold and Rhonda around to meet some of the other guests that Rhonda didn't already know.

"Are you going to be mad at me if I forget half of these people in ten minutes?" he whispered to Rhonda.

"Almost none of them are important anyway, Arnold," she replied. "These people are here for appearances, not for substance. Dealing with a party like this is mostly an act. I talk to them like I remember who they are but keep it vague enough that they never realize I don't know their name or what they do. The trick is figuring who is actually important and worth remembering."

"This is rather overwhelming."

Rhonda smiled and patted his arm. "Just relax and enjoy the food."

"Rhonda," her father said. "This is Mayor Dixie. Mayor, this is my daughter Rhonda and her… _friend,_ Arnold Shortman."

Arnold could see the small flinch at the corner of Rhonda's eyes at the way Buckley introduced him, but she kept her smile and façade in place. "Madame Mayor, it's truly a pleasure."

"Miss Lloyd, your father has told me much about you. I understand you're interested in working for my office? It just so happens I have an opening for an aid position."

Rhonda's carefully constructed mask of control crumbled in confusion. "I'm sorry, I believe there must have been some miscommunication. I do not currently have plans to leave the Sheriff's Office-"

"Oh Rhonda," Buckely interrupted. "How long are you going to play at this charade? We get it, you wanted some adventure before you settled down. Now the experiment is over and it's time to look toward your future."

Rhonda placed a strained smile back on her face. "Madame Mayor, I will certainly consider your offer. Do you mind if I have a moment with my parents?"

Dixie's eyes went back and forth between Rhonda and Buckley. "Of course, Miss Lloyd. I look forward to hearing from you." The Mayor beat a hasty retreat, aware that a family dispute was brewing and not wishing to be anywhere near it.

Rhonda angrily turned to Buckley. "What the hell was that?"

Buckley scoffed. "Rhonda, this juvenile obsession with doing common work is tiresome. You're halfway through your twenties and you haven't settled down or prepared for your future in any way."

"Buckley-"Brooke began. She could clearly see Rhonda's anger and Arnold's discomfort.

"Not now, Brooke. This conversation has been a long time coming. It's time for her to stop slumming and start applying herself. Politics would be an excellent way to get her back on track quickly."

"Stop talking about me like I'm not here!" Rhonda hissed.

"I'm very well aware that you're here, darling. Now, I've already taken the liberty of writing your resignation letter. It's in the study awaiting your signature."

"How _dare_ you make that decision for me!"

"Oh nonsense, Rhonda. If I didn't make these decisions for you, you'd never get anywhere in life. We both know you can't afford that expensive apartment on a _policeman's_ salary."

"It's not about _money_ , Dad. It's about doing something positive with my life. Something real."

"You can have much more impact on people's lives by being involved in politics. If you really want to help people, start in the Mayor's office and we can have you in the State legislature in a few years. Think of all the people you could help _that_ way. And you don't have to dirty yourself touching the mentally ill or going into a _trailer_ park." Disgust dripped from Buckley's voice.

Rhonda turned to her mother. "And what is _your_ opinion on this, mother?"

Brooke opened her mouth to speak but Buckley interrupted again. "She's in agreement with me."

"She can speak for herself!"

"None of us will be speaking any further. The conversation is over. Pick up the letter before you leave." Buckley turned and left, walking toward a group of wealthy real estate developers.

Rhonda stood seething for a moment before turning and storming out of the room and out onto the patio. She sat on the steps with her fists balled at her sides, before relaxing them. She stared off into the night as she felt the tears gathering in her eyes.

"Are you okay, Rhonda?"

She sniffled and looked away from the voice. "I'm fine Arnold. I'm sorry for dragging you here."

Arnold sat next to her, but she refused to look at him. "That was kinda rough, huh?"

Rhonda chuckled, which was thankful for. It was about the only thing keeping her from sobbing. "That's one way to put it. Listen, I'll be alright. I just… I just need to be alone right now. Why don't you head home? I'm sure Helga would love for you to be home early."

Arnold nodded. "She would. But she'd also worry about _you_."

Rhonda gave a snort. "I think you overestimate our relationship."

Arnold smiled. "I think you underestimate Helga." Arnold placed a hand on Rhonda's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. "You call either of us if you need anything, okay?'

Rhonda nodded but still refused to look at him. She patted his hand. "Thanks. Tell Helga I'm sorry to put her through all of this."

Arnold laughed. "She likes a man in a suit. She won't admit it, but this suit you bought me is an enormous turn on for her."

Rhonda laughed despite herself. "I really don't need to know _any_ of that. Now go home."

Arnold gave her shoulder another squeeze before standing and making his way back to the front door and the start of his journey home to what Rhonda assumed was a very anxious Helga. For her part, Rhonda returned to brooding and descending into a mix of emotions. _As if I wasn't having enough of an identity crisis already, he has to go and do that._

"How are you, dear?"

"Oh, I'm just _great_ , mother," Rhonda growled. "I really don't want to talk about it."

"I'm not here to grill you, sweetie. I want to be sure you're alright." Brooke assumed Arnold's position next to her on the step. "Your father was wrong to do that."

"Yeah, I'm sure you feel terrible about it. You didn't like my decision any better that daddy did."

"Honey, he didn't like it because he thought it was beneath you. I didn't like it because it was _dangerous_."

"Your concern is touching, mother," Rhonda muttered sarcastically.

"Rhonda, why do you think I don't care about you?"

Rhonda could tell she was frustrated. She sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm just having a really hard time at work right now."

"Are you reconsidering your decision to go into that field?"

"No. I mean, I don't know. I don't think I am. I'm just having an identity crisis. I don't know what I want to do there anymore. I don't have any friends and I was hoping coming back here and being part of this party would help me. But it just made me feel worse."

Brooke sat quietly for a moment. "What happened to Nadine?"

"We've been on the outs for years, Mom."

"And Arnold? He's not your friend?"

"He's more of an acquaintance. We don't really hang out or anything. I just brought him because…" She halted for a moment before looking sadly at Brooke. "Because I felt you expected it."

Brooke reached over and took her daughter's hand. "Rhonda, I expect it only because you're a beautiful, intelligent, strong young woman who could have the pick of the litter. You _deserve_ someone, and it amazes me that the boys aren't beating your door down. Unlike your father, I don't care what his social status is, as long as he makes you happy."

Rhonda sniffled again. "But you still don't like the job, do you?" It was more a statement than a question.

"Only because I don't want you to get hurt. But Rhonda, as your father pointed out, you're a grown woman. You can make your own decisions." She quietly rubbed Rhonda's hand for a few moments before speaking again. "Do you think you want to stay where you are?"

Rhonda thought for a moment. "Not if I have to stay in this position. I need to do something different."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Maybe a school resource position. Or Helga's old traffic spot."

Brooke frowned. "Traffic? That sounds boring."

Rhonda shrugged. "Helga learned a lot from it. And she's one of the best cops we have."

"If it's what you want to do, then do it."

Rhonda smiled slightly. "You know Mom, I think maybe I was wrong. I think I have a friend there."

"Well that's great, honey. Do you think she could help you?"

Rhonda nodded, and her smile widened. "Maybe." She turned toward Brooke and wrapped her arms around the older woman. "You're not going to ask me to quit, too?"

Brooke wrapped an arm around her daughter. "No, Rhonda. I'm not going to pressure you to do anything. And your father isn't going to, either. I'll make sure of it."

"He'd better not, or I'll never speak to him again."

"He loves you Rhonda. He's heavy-handed and sometimes obtuse. But he wants what's best for you."

They sat there for a moment in silence before Rhonda finally let go. "Thanks, Mom."

"I love you, Rhonda."

"I love you too, Mom."

 **A/N: So, Nettie had asked why their presence was required at the scene in the last the chapter. In case anyone else was wondering why the deputies needed to be there, in any suspicious fire, someone needs to be on scene until the firefighters are done. They do this in order to maintain the security of the scene and reduce the chances of contamination of evidence. It also maintains chain of custody for evidence. Also, Kryten had mentions that he was surprised Rhonda wanted the K9 position. K9s tend to be the rock stars of most agencies. It's the highest rung on the social ladder.**

 **Also, I wrote the end of this chapter hopped up on Zquil. I hope it doesn't suck, because I'm pretty out of it right now. I thought it was going to go faster.**


	69. Chapter 68 - Range Day

**Range Day**

 **October 23, 1147**

"It's about damn time," Helga grumbled as she left the training room. "Why do we have to sit through that crap every damn year?"

Gerald shrugged. "Not everyone shoots more than once a year. And I don't know about you, but I don't want my career ended because one of our illustrious detectives forgot to keep his finger outside the trigger guard on the range."

Helga snorted as Arnold and Rhonda joined them in the hallway. "You would think they might have learned something from Wittenburg and I almost getting killed. We need more range time each year."

"Well, you didn't really help with that whole thing," Rhonda said.

Helga wheeled on her angrily. "Excuse me?"

Rhonda put her hands up in defense. "I just mean that you actually hit the guy a bunch of times. It's normal for people in panic mode to most almost every shot, especially against a moving target. Once your heartbeat hits 200 beats per minute in panic mode, you lose fine motor control in your hands and hitting anything is difficult. So, they must think that their training program is pretty good, and they don't want to change it."

Helga's anger subsided, and she instead raised an eyebrow while regarding Rhonda curiously. "That's pretty perceptive, Rhondaloid. I didn't know you were an expert on physiological stress response."

Rhonda frowned and crossed her arms. "What, I can't know stuff? I'm still a cop. I read about these things."

"We should get up to the range before we get yelled at for holding up training," Arnold interrupted.

"Yes, we should," Rhonda said as she trudged down the hall.

"What's her malfunction?" Gerald asked.

Arnold sighed. "She didn't have a great night last night."

"Oh right, your weird friend date, right? And you were cool with that, Pataki?" Helga growled and followed Rhonda down the hallway. "What'd I say?"

"Gerald," Arnold sighed. "Why do you always have to do that?"

"Do what?"

"Get under her skin like that."

Gerald grinned and shrugged. "Because someone needs to keep her on her toes. She'd hate to go soft, and you know it."

Arnold crossed his arms and frowned at his friend. "And when did that become _your_ job?"

"Self-appointed. Now let's get going before your two ladies start to miss you." Gerald turned and began walking down the hallway.

"That's _not_ funny, Gerald!" Arnold called as he hurried to catch up.

Gerald laughed.

* * *

 **1214**

Helga and Arnold followed Gerald's pickup down the dirt road that led to the county range. Rhonda followed in her patrol car. The trio of vehicles passed through the trees before emerging in an open area. The range had a paved area that extended 25 yards from a berm. At the end with the berm, telephone poles were embedded in the berm with cables strung between them for hanging cardboard target backers. The pavement had yellow lines at three, seven, fifteen, and twenty-five yards. The furthest line had seven 55-gallon drums, painted yellow, spaced out on it. A small shed sat at the far side of the paved area and housed the range equipment, including targets, ear protection, and buckets for spent shell casings. The trio drove beyond the pavement and parked next to several other patrol and personal vehicles parked in the field on the other side. The firearms instructors were clearly visible in their red shirts and caps as they laid out their paperwork.

The three cars parked, and the deputies exited. They were wearing cargo pants and sweatshirts, the typical range day attire. Helga and Arnold grabbed their vests and gun belts from the trunk and geared up as the other deputies made their way over to the firing line.

"What exactly happened with Lloyd, anyway?" Helga whispered. "You just said she decided to leave early."

Arnold glanced over at Rhonda as she walked to the firing line. Since she had been driving a marked patrol car, she was already wearing her equipment. Arnold noticed that despite the lousy night Rhonda he endured, she still stood erect. He would expected at least some hint of defeat, but instead he saw defiance. "Her dad ambushed her with an introduction to the Mayor."

"How horrible that must've been," Helga muttered, not looking up.

"He told her he had already arranged for her to work in the Mayor's office as some sort of aide. He even wrote a resignation letter for the office that he told her to sign."

Helga stopped and looked over at Arnold. "He did what now?"

"He told her she was going to leave the office, work for the Mayor, and finally plan for her future. He was none too happy with me, by the way. Apparently, I'm beneath her social status."

Helga gave him an empathetic look. "Oh sweetie," she said softly. She cradled his cheek gently with her hand. "You're beneath _everyone's_ social status."

Arnold gave her a blank look before quickly snatching her hand and gently biting her finger. Helga squeaked, then giggled. "You deserved that," he said.

"So, what'd she do? She sign the letter?"

Arnold shrugged. "I don't know. She stormed out and sat on the patio. She told me to go home to you. She was sure that you were anxious. So, I did."

"You just _left_ her there? Dammit Shortman, she needed someone to comfort her and you just walk out?"

"Hey, she told me she needed to be alone. I figure with a woman, I've got a fifty-fifty shot of doing the right thing by listening."

Helga frowned. "I'll let it slide this time, Arnoldo. But we need to discuss your ability to decipher girl-speak. Now get your shit, they're waiting for us."

The two jogged over to the instructors and the waiting deputies.

"Nice of you two to stop making out and join the group," the instructor muttered. Helga opened her mouth to retort but was cut off as he continued. "Alright, let's get through this quick. First, we're going to shoot off the ammo you've got left. You'll be issued new duty ammunition before you leave. Then you'll load your magazines with 50 rounds each and we'll go through the qualification course. Once everyone qualifies, we'll do some drills. Then dinner, then night shooting, then home so I can watch the NLDS that I have on my DVR. If any of you tells me who won, I will shoot you myself."

"Is that why we have the vests?" Helga asked.

The instructor frowned. "On the three-yard line. Move!"

The deputies lined up as the instructors stood behind them. "Show me a safe line!" one yelled.

The shooters put their hands behind there backs, palms away with their fingers opened, showing they had no weapons.

"Shooters, when ordered to do so, you will draw your weapon, charge it downrange, then return it to your holster. Do so now."

They removed their weapons, racked the slides, and put them back in their holsters as ordered.

"Individual fire. When you hear the tone, draw your weapon, fire two rounds, scan, and reholster."

Helga flipped the switch on her electronic ear protection, turning on the microphones. The microphones would automatically cut off when sound exceeded a certain decibel level. She reached over and turned Arnold's on too. "I bet I beat your draw time _and_ your splits."

Arnold gave her a side-long glance. "Splits?"

"Your time between shots. I bet I'm faster than you, Football Head."

"And what do I get if I win?"

Helga tapped her chin as the instructors moved down the line. "Next time we go to Slausen's, dinner is on me."

Arnold shrugged. "Sure. And what do you want if _you_ win?"

"You can do my laundry next week."

"Really? Laundry? That's what you want?"

It was Helga's turn to shrug. "I hate doing laundry. And that includes folding, bucko."

Arnold shook his head and chuckled. "Well, I've got at least a dozen chances to beat you with the ammo we've got. Better look sharp though, you're up next."

Helga turned her attention back to the target. She dropped her hands to her side, took a deep breath, and focused on the task. She could practically feel the instructor behind her, holding the shot timer near her ear. The timer emitted a loud tone and Helga's hand shot to the grip of her pistol. She quickly freed it from the holster, bringing it up to her chest where then pushing it straight out toward the target. As soon as her elbows locked, she squeezed the trigger without acquiring the sights, sending a round through the paper before squeezing it again. She looked to either side before holstering her weapon again.

"Draw 1.48, .23 split. Not bad."

The instructor walked behind Arnold and held up shot timer. Arnold cracked his neck and flexed his fingers. The timer sounded, and Arnold fired.

"Draw 1.32, .21 split. Good, Shortman."

As the instructors began walking back to the front of the line, Arnold could hear a low growl through his microphones. He looked over at his girlfriend and saw her jaw was tightly clenched. "Aw, don't feel so bad Blue. You've still got a few chances left to beat me," he said with a wink.

The competition continued, their times slowly creeping downward, but Helga finally came out ahead. The two walked back to the parked cars

"You put a good fight, Arnoldo. Just make sure you fold that laundry crisply."

Arnold raised an eyebrow. "You mean like you do, Wrinkles?"

Helga took a swig from her water bottle before pointing at him. "That's not becoming a new nickname, just so we're clear."

"Dear God, will you two just bang already and be done with it?" Rhonda said as she fished her own water bottle out of her car.

"What crawled up your panties, Princess," Helga asked. She didn't seem angry but instead genuinely curious.

"None of your business," Rhonda muttered.

"Give us a minute," Helga whispered to Arnold. Arnold nodded and walked off to find Gerald. Helga walked over to Helga's vehicle and leaned on the trunk of Rhonda's car. "Alright Princess. Spill. What's going on?"

"I'm sure Arnold told you what happened last night," Rhonda snapped.

"Oh, he told me some of it, sure. But I'd like to hear it from you. You know how Football Head can be. Everything through rose-colored glasses. How bad was it?"

Rhonda crossed her arms and snorted. "My dad threatened to disown me and cut me off financially if I didn't sign a resignation letter that _he_ wrote and go work as the Mayor's aide doing useless tasks and shaking hands with weaselly politicians, all so that I can run for office on my own someday."

"And what did you decide?"

Rhonda downed the rest of her water and threw the bottle back into the car. "I decided I'm having an identity crisis and I have no fucking idea what to do."

Helga grinned. "I dunno, you definitely _sound_ like a cop."

Rhonda slumped back against the car and rubbed her temples. "I can't keep doing this, Helga."

"Doing what?"

"Whatever it is I'm doing. Something needs to change. Are they ever going to fill your old traffic spot?"

"Probably, but I don't think you want that."

"What, don't think I could handle it?"

Helga shrugged. "I think you'd do alright. I just don't think it's the right fit for you."

"Why not?"

Helga looked over at the dark-haired deputy. Rhonda was tired. She looked like she hadn't slept the night before, which wouldn't really have surprised Helga. _But she also looks… lost?_ Helga thought. "You've stopped plenty of cars. I don't think that's what you need. You'll get bored doing that."

"You didn't seem to get bored. You always seemed to find drugs."

Helga huffed. "Rhonda, do you think I did all of that one my own? The Narcotics Unit fed me information. I knew the drug routes, who was moving it, and what cars they were driving."

Rhonda stared at her. "So, you're not just some super cop that does it all on her own?"

"I still need to find probable cause. I still got all those warrant arrests on my own. I found plenty of drugs without help. But no, I'm not a super cop. But I sure as shit wasn't going to tell any of _you_ that. No one here liked me, so the only thing in my favor was your _respect_. So, I cultivated the image. It worked, too, until Arnoldo showed up and made you all realize I'm human."

Rhonda slumped. "I just don't know what to do. I don't want to leave here, but I feel like I'm stuck in a rut and I don't know how to get out. And if I can't find a way to get out, why shouldn't I take up the job at the Mayor's office?"

"Because that's your dad's choice and not yours. You'd be miserable, and you know it." Rhonda seemed to deflate even more. "You know, there's going to be a School Resource Deputy position next month."

Rhonda looked up. "Who's leaving?"

"Groat's getting promoted to Detective. His spot's going to open up."

"How do you know this?"

"I'm a sergeant now. I hear things in sergeant's meetings. You should think about it. The sign up will be out next week. Better get your shit, they're waiting for us."

Helga walked away, leaving a pensive Rhonda to gather her things and return to the firing line. Arnold was already waiting by a barrel at the 25-yard marker as Helga approached.

"Good chat?" he asked.

"I dunno. An identity crisis is a hell of a thing."

"Speaking from experience?"

Helga snorted. "None of your business, bucko. Just focus on getting your ass beat in qualification."

"I bet I outscore you in final qual score," he said with a smirk.

"Oh, you think so?" Helga said as she crossed her arms. "We upping the stakes?"

"Sure. If I win, we have dinner with my parents."

Helga paled. _Oh God, he wants me to meet his parents? I'm not ready for that! Okay, deep breaths. He's good, but you're better. You can win this._ She took a deep breath. "Fine. And if I win, you're my training dummy when I teach defensive tactics at the academy next week."

Arnold's smirk didn't waver, which increased Helga's discomfort. "Agreed."

 _He believes he's going to win. What have I gotten into?_

Rhonda entered her position on the line and the instructor began calling out instructions.

"Show me a safe line!" The deputies placed their hands, open palms facing away from the body, in the small of their backs. "At this time, administratively load one magazine into your weapon. Do so now."

The deputies removed a magazine from their pockets and inserted it in the handgun.

"When ordered to do so, remove your weapon from the holster, point it down range, and charge. Do so now."

They removed their weapons from their holsters, chambered a cartridge, and put the weapon back in the holster.

"On whistle, you will draw your weapons, fire four rounds at the target, reload, and fire four more rounds, scan, and reholster. You have 45 seconds. You may fire supported by the barrel or unsupported, however you choose. Ready on the right?" He looked to the instructor at the far end of the line. The instructor gave a thumbs up. "Ready on the left?" The second instructor gave him a thumbs up as well. "Ready on the firing line!" He held a stopwatch in front of him and placed his whistle in his mouth. He waited, watching as the shooters began to twitch as time went on and there was still no whistle.

When the whistle sounded the deputies drew, some dropping to their knees behind the barrel and resting their forearms on it. Helga and Arnold remained standing, controlling their breathing and carefully squeezing the trigger. The most points on qualification were lost on the 15- and 25-yard lines, and both realized that this was the point where their performance mattered the most, but it was impossible to see where they were hitting on a paper target from that distance. After 20 seconds, both had fired off their 8 rounds. After the remainder of the shooters had finished the course of fire, they walked up to the 15-yard line.

"For your next course of fire, you will draw, fire six rounds, reload, and fire six more rounds. You have 30 seconds. On the whistle."

The deputies went through the course of fire, and the next, then the next. With their ammunition exhausted, they retreated to the barrels as the instructors tallied their hits.

"Jones, 227 of 250. Samwell, 217. Johansson, 243. Lloyd, 240. Pataki, 247. Shortman, 249. What's the matter, Shortman? Couldn't get a perfect score?"

Helga's jaw hit the ground as Arnold smiled and shrugged. "No one's perfect, I guess." Arnold turned to Helga. "Best of three?"

Helga hissed for him to be silent as she stormed back to the ammunition table to reload.

* * *

 **1923**

Best of three had turned into best of five, but the instructors had cut it off at that point, wanting instead to move on to actual training rather than indulging Helga's incredible competitive drive. When the pizzas arrived, Helga was forced to swallow her pride and admit defeat. She sat in the bed of Gerald's truck, as far away from the two men that on the open tailgate while Rhonda lounged in a collapsing chair she kept in her trunk. Rhonda had brought a cooler with some decidedly nutritious looking food that Helga couldn't identify.

"Blondie how long are you gonna sit back there and pout?" Gerald asked without turning around.

"Fuck off, Geraldo," she grumbled.

"Man, she's gonna sit back there until her boy Vogt wins the election."

Rhonda chuckled as she stabbed more food with her fork. "He needs to start actually campaigning if he wants to have a chance."

"All he really needs to do is tell everyone about that thing at the fair," Gerald said.

Rhonda nodded as Helga looked up and squinted. "What thing at the fair?" she asked.

"You didn't hear about it?"

Helga frowned. "Obviously not, geek bait. What happened?"

"The Leland PD Lieutenant was giving his daughter, what's her name… Hadley? Henley?"

Helga rolled her eyes. "Hailey."

"Yeah, that one. Anyway, he was giving the girl a ride back to her car in the lot in the golf cart. As they're pulling up to her car, they see the Sheriff, First Sergeant Billings, and a deputy the LT didn't know walking around her car, looking in the windows and stuff. So, she walks up all slow like, and the Sheriff says something like 'Hey sweetie, just checking on your car for ya.' Then they get in their ATV and drive off. Later that night, the LT sees the Sheriff by the command shack and asks him what they were doing. Sheriff says 'Police work. Something you wouldn't know anything about.' So the LT says something like well, you just kinda scared Hermione- "

"Hailey!" Helga interrupted. "How hard is that to remember?"

Gerald shrugged. "Isn't that what I said? Anyway, he says the Sheriff scared the kid and the Sheriff has a complete and total meltdown. Starts screaming at him, tells him he's making this political and it's bullshit. A crowd starts to gather until Billings can grab him and stuff him into the command center. Shady shit, I'm tellin' ya."

Helga had walked over to the tailgate during the story. She kicked Gerald in the hip. "Scooch." Gerald moved over, and Helga sat between him and Arnold. "And Vogt hasn't done anything with this? He hasn't made a big issue of it?"

Rhonda tossed her fork back into her cooler and closed it. "Nope. Hasn't said a word. I'm not sure what he's doing."

"Huh…" Helga began to ponder but she was cut short.

"Arnold, my man. You gonna go for Helga's traffic spot?"

"I don't know, Gerald. I think I'd rather stay on regular patrol for a while."

"If you don't I think I will. I wouldn't mind having a car all to myself. What about the SRD spot?"

Rhonda looked up intently.

"No thanks. I'll stick with the road stuff. Maybe in a few years or something."

Rhonda relaxed. _I saw that, Princess_ , Helga thought.

"What about you, Rhonda? You willing to give up your sweet post for a bunch of rug rats and teenagers with bad attitudes?"

"Yeah, how about it Princess?" Helga asked before taking a sip of her soda.

"I… I think I might."

Gerald sat up straight. "Whoa, for real? You'd spend all day dealing with kids? That doesn't seem your thing."

"Maybe you don't know my thing, Geraldo," Rhonda said as she crossed her arms.

Gerald raised an eyebrow as Helga laughed. "Lloyd, normally I would never allow someone to use one of my nicknames, but that was awesome. Look at him? He doesn't even know what to do with that!"

"Enough dickin' around. Everyone back on the line for night shoot!" the instructor bellowed. "Lloyd, get your patrol car up here. Flashers on. Let's get this shit done so I can go watch the game."

Rhonda tossed her chair and cooler back in the trunk of her patrol car. Gerald and Arnold wandered over to the range area. Helga patted Rhonda on the shoulder. "Rhonda, you keep ol' Gerald in line like that and I'll put in a good word for you with the Captain for the school spot." Helga walked over to the shooting line, still chuckling at the look on Gerald's face.

 **A/N: I apologize for the extended absence. I was out of town for training at the end of August and I actually transitioned from road patrol to a School Resource post myself. It's been a busy first month of school, despite my rather small district. Once I settle in I hope to be able to write more often.**

 **Range day manages to take all the fun out of shooting. And I say this as someone that shoots on a weekly basis when weather permits. It is, however, a good office gossip day, as it's rare to have so many deputies from different parts of the agency together in one place.**

 **Thank you all for the kind words on the last chapter.**


	70. Chapter 69 - Meet the Parents

**Meet the Parents**

 **October 25, 0636**

Helga had just sat down at her desk when the phone rang. "Sergeant Pataki speaking."

"Hi Helga, it's Stella Shortman. Arnold's mother."

Helga sat up straight. _Arnold's mom? Why is she calling me?_ "Good morning, Mrs. Shortman. What can I do for you?"

Stella chuckled. "Please don't be so formal. This is a personal call, not a professional one. Miles and I were wondering if you and Arnold would like to come over for dinner one night this week."

"Oh, uh, sure. That sounds good. We're both free Thursday night, if that's alright."

"That would be great. We'll see you both at seven?"

"That should be fine."

"Great! Miles and I are looking forward to meeting you. Arnold talks about you all the time and we're excited to actually meet you."

"Well thank you. Thursday at seven."

"Indeed. See you then."

Helga hung up the phone and smiled. _His parents want to meet me. They want to meet_ me _!_ Her smile faded as the gravity of the situation hit her. _Oh God, they want to_ meet _me! I'm a basket case! They're going to hate me! What have I done!?_

Helga looked at the clock. 0640. Arnold was probably still in the squad room. She jumped out of her seat and ran to the hallway. Arnold was crossing the hall and entering a room on the left.

"Arnold!" she called.

"Hey Helga, I'll be out in a minute."

"No, Arnold I need to talk to you right now!"

"Just one second…" he said as he walked through the doorway.

Helga followed him and grabbed him by the arm. "No, Arnold you don't understand, I need to talk to your right this minute!"

"Helga, this is not really the place-"

"You don't understand, your mom called me and-" She was gesturing wildly with her hands.

"Helga," Arnold said impatiently.

Helga continued to ramble. "And she asked me if we would like to do dinner this week-"

"Helga," he said more sternly as he crossed his arms.

"And I said yes! Arnold, I'm not ready to meet your parents what if-"

"Helga!" he yelled.

"-they don't like me! I'm a basket case, Arnold! They're going to think I'm a loon-"

"HELGA!" Arnold grabbed her shoulders with both hands.

"WHAT?!" she yelled as she tossed his hands off of her.

He gazed at her with his eyes half closed and a straight expression on his face. "You're in the men's locker room."

Helga froze with her arms still in the air. She slowly turned her head to the right and saw a half-dozen deputies in various stages of undress all staring at her, their expressions mixtures of confusion and a little fear.

 _Don't freeze, ol' girl. Give them some of that Pataki "charm." Anger and yelling should divert their attention._ She turned her body to face them and glanced at her watch before placing her hands on her hips. "What are you morons looking at? I want you in your cars and headed to your zones in five minutes, understood?" They remained frozen. "Let's _go_ , boys! No more dicking around!" The deputies snapped out of their shock and started a frightened rush for their equipment and uniforms. Helga turned back to Arnold. "Deputy Shortman, a word in private?"

Helga didn't wait for a response before grabbing him by the wrist and dragging him back across the hall into the break room. She opened the supply closet and pushed him in. She turned on the light by pulling on the chain.

"Helga, what the hell is going on?"

"Your mother called me. She asked me if we wanted to do dinner Thursday."

"Okay… this resulted in a panic attack because…?"

Helga threw her arms up. "Because I'm batshit crazy, Football Head! I didn't even really think about what I was agreeing to until after I did it!"

Arnold sighed. "Helga, this isn't a big deal. My parents are going to love you, just like I do."

Her heart still melted every time he said something like that, but it didn't push away her worries. "Ten minutes with me and I'm willing to bet they'll think otherwise."

Arnold gently put his hands on both sides of her face and kissed her. She froze for a moment then relaxed, moaning softly. The kiss was brief. He backed away but kept his hands on her cheeks.

"Helga, you're an amazing woman. You're brilliant, strong, and funny. They will _adore_ you. You just need to relax, okay?"

Helga took a deep breath and pushed down Arnold's hands with her own. "Thanks, Arnold. I just… got a little scared there for a bit. I'm sure I'll freak out again when Thursday comes around."

The door opened, revealing a rather confused looking Lieutenant Simmons. "Uh, Sergeant? Deputy?"

The two officers looked at Simmons in surprise before Helga grabbed a box of glass cleaner spray cans off the shelf and shoved it into Arnold's arms. "I _told_ you to take these out to the substation yesterday, dammit!" she yelled before angrily storming out of the closet.

A sheepish Arnold looked at Simmons. "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, Arnold. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything… important." Simmons gave him a wry smile.

Arnold let out an exasperated sigh. "Certainly nothing as… _important_ as you're probably thinking, sir. Thank you." Arnold looked around the Lieutenant and saw that Helga was long gone. He put the box of glass cleaner back on the shelf and leaned close to Simmons. "The parents want to meet her," he whispered.

"Ah, always a stressful event. Perhaps next time you can use the Sergeant's office for this… meeting? She _is_ allowed to close that door, you know."

"I'll be sure to remind her of that, sir, thank you." Arnold walked out of the closet and headed out to his patrol car. Leaving a very amused Lieutenant Simmons to rearrange the supply closet in peace.

* * *

 **October 27**

 **1754**

Helga's knee bounced excitedly as she wrapped her arms tighter around her body. _This is it_ , she thought. _This is when his parents realize their wonderful son is dating a crazy person._ She kept her view fixed forward out the windshield.

"Take a deep breath, please" Arnold said softly.

Helga glared at him. "Don't tell me what to do, Football Head."

"If I may make one suggestion?"

"I get the impression I won't stop you, so you might as well come out with it."

"Maybe don't call me Football Head in front of the parents?"

Helga dropped her hands to her lap. "Uh, right."

He looked over to her a winked. "You'll be fine, Blue."

She huffed. "If you say so…" she muttered.

* * *

"Arnold tells us the two of get a lot of… interesting cases," Miles said as he took a sip of his wine.

Helga nodded. "That's one way to put it." She jerked a thumb at Arnold. "Footba-… Uh, your son is what we politely term a 'shit magnet' at the office."

Miles choked on his wine and Stella laughed lightly. "Is that true?" she asked.

Arnold's face flushed slightly. "You could say that. I tend to get all the really weird stuff." He smiled. "Helga usually gets me out of it, though."

It was Helga's turn to blush. "Uh, something like that." She took her napkin from her lap and placed it on the table. "That was delicious, Mrs. Shortman."

"Helga, please. Call me Stella."

"And I'm Miles. You don't have to be so formal here."

"If it's all the same, I'd… maybe rather use your titles a little longer," Helga said as she grabbed her elbow. She averted her eyes from the two people on the other side of the table.

Miles and Stella exchanged a confused look. "Of course. If that makes you more comfortable."

Arnold cleared his throat. "Helga and I will clean up, Mom. It's the least we can do after you made us such a wonderful meal."

"How about you and I clean up and we'll let the ladies relax?" Miles asked.

"Oh, no, I insist-"Helga began.

"That sounds great, honey," Stella said, cutting her off. Stella stood and grabbed Helga's hand and began to lead her into the living room. Helga shot a panicked look at Arnold, who simply shrugged.

Stella and Helga walked into the living room. The older woman directed Helga onto the couch while Stella sat in a chair nearby. Helga folded her hands together in her lap and began nervously bouncing her leg as she focused her eyes at a particularly interesting spot on the wall.

Stella raised an eyebrow. "You can relax, Helga. I don't bite."

"Huh?" Helga said, finally looking at the smiling woman. "Oh, no, it's not… I'm fine. Everything's fine."

"Helga, honey, you don't have to be so nervous."

 _Easy for you to say, lady. You're not the crazy person._ "I'm not a real people person."

"I think you're just afraid we won't like you." Helga frowned and looked at the other woman. She opened her mouth to speak but Stella continued. "You don't need to worry about that, though."

Helga crossed her arms. "And why might that be?"

Stella gave Helga a sad smile. "Because you saved him."

Helga froze. "I'm pretty sure that's backwards, Mrs. Shortman."

"I think it happened both ways. He told us all about the whole incident. Including you coming over in the middle of the night." Stella sighed. "He couldn't talk to us about it, although he tried. We couldn't understand it. You were the only one that could." Stella stood from her seat and moved over to sit next to Helga. "When Arnold was a baby, we left to go Central America to treat a plague, a sleeping sickness. We thought we'd gone a week, but we caught it too. We…" Stella took a deep breath. "We never came home to him. But he came for us. When he and Gerald graduated high school, the two of them came down to San Lorenzo. They had a journal that Miles had written. They used it to find us. It took them months, and thankfully the river pirate La Sombra was dead by then, so he didn't interfere."

Helga smiled softly. "He always has to save the day, huh?"

Stella chuckled. "I blame his grandparents." Stella took Helga's hand in her own. Helga's instinct was the recoil, but she fought the urge. "Somehow I think they would have gone a little faster if you had been with them."

"Uh, that's nice and all, but I somehow doubt that. I was even _less_ pleasant when I was 18. So, I'm sure you can extrapolate just how miserable I was to be around."

Stella laughed. "You're not as bad as you think you are, dear." Stella smiled warmly at her. "He loves you."

Helga smiled too. "I know. I'm sorta fond of him too."

* * *

Helga put her journal down as Arnold climbed into the bed next to her. He leaned over and kissed her gently on the cheek. "So, it didn't go so badly, right?"

"It was… alright."

"What did you and mom talk about?"

"She told me about your little trip to San Lorenzo when you were still a kid."

Arnold frowned. "Oh."

Helga reached up and turned his face back to her. "Always the do-gooder, huh?"

"If there was a chance they were alive, I had to try."

"I don't blame you one bit. They're… really nice."

Arnold smiled. "That's about as much of a compliment as I could expect from you." His smile faded into a look of contemplation. "Why did you insist on calling them Mr. and Mrs. Shortman?"

Helga sighed. "You ever noticed it's not 'Mom' and 'Dad' for me, but Miriam and Bob?"

"Yeah, but how-"

"Because if I call them by their first names, it's like… it's like I don't respect them. Like I see them the same way I see my own parents. And they don't deserve that. If I use their titles it just feels… better? I don't know. They seem like nice people and I don't want to treat them like I treat my own parents."

Arnold pondered that for a moment. "How's your mom doing?" he asked.

Helga sighed. "I probably should've known you'd switch topics like that. She's alright. She got a job, so they agreed to weekends in jail. She shows up at 6 PM on Friday, and they let her out at 6 PM on Sunday. It's weird. Bob is pissed, but Miriam actually seems alright. I think she's staying sober this time." Before Arnold could reply, she turned to him and pointed at him. "And before you ask, no, I'm not calling her 'Mom.' She hasn't earned that back yet."

Arnold smirked. "Yet?"

Helga groaned in frustration. "Why do you always do that?"

"Do what?"

"Don't play dumb with _me_ , Mr. Positive. You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about."

Arnold wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close before planting a kiss on the top of her head. He chuckled. "Yeah, I do."

Helga could feel her face flush. Her whole body felt warm. _How does he still have this effect on me after all this time?_ Helga turned her face toward his and pulled him down into a kiss. As their lips locked, her hand traveled down his bare chest and under the band of his boxers. He jumped as she squeezed him. She gave Arnold a predatory smile. "Someone's in the mood."

Arnold smiled sheepishly. "Well, maybe."

"I may be able to help you with that. If you return the favor, of course." She squeezed him again.

"Of course," he said as his hands began to wander down her torso. "Lady's first, though," he added with a wink.

 **A/N: I really thought things would have calmed down but I'm still getting slammed** **at work. So hopefully this will tide everyone over for a little while longer.**

 **Nep2uune: I also think Arnold did the right thing by leaving. Rhonda isn't his girlfriend. If he's going to face Helga's wrath, it's probably better to take it for leaving than for trying to comfort a beautiful woman Helga's already insecure about.**

 **Guest: Don't read too far into it. Helga's basically saying you shouldn't have left her alone when she was upset.**

 **Kryten: I do enjoy trying to show a little bit of what goes on. We had firearms qualification this past Thursday.**

 **Call Me Nettie: We'll see Rhonda's new role soon, I hope. If I can make the time to write.**

 **Timewarp: Range this week was cold and windy. Thoroughly miserable. I also got stuck cleaning the shotguns, which delayed me long enough that I was still at the office when SWAT called me to go with them as medic. Needless to say, not only was range not fun but it was an exceptionally long, miserable day.**


	71. Chapter 70 - Friday Night Fights

**October 28**

 **1921**

Gerald sat in his patrol car, idly tapping away at whatever game of the week he had installed on his phone. He didn't even pay attention to them anymore. He downloaded the free games, wasted his time until he hit the pay wall, then moved on to the next. He barely noticed the radar flickering a speed. He sighed and adjusted the antenna to get a more solid reading. When he got a solid reading, he wiggled the cord to make sure it was properly connected.

"Mmmm mmmm mmmm. Eighty-four? You're getting' a ticket, my man." The speeding vehicle passed by him and pulled out. He turned on his headlights, but the vehicle didn't slow down. Gerald grimaced and accelerated while turning on his emergency lights. The vehicle finally began to slow but failed to stop until it had turned off the main highway and traveled around a corner on a dirt road. _Well, that's not suspicious behavior or anything._

Gerald put his car in park and turned on his spot light. As he lit up the car, he could see that it had at least three occupants. He called out his location and the plate before adding "Be advised, vehicle is occupied times three."

"Received one three three. Do you require a second unit?"

Gerald thought for a moment. Normally he would just handle it himself, but it was dark, he was parked on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere, and the vehicle had already displayed some suspicious behavior. He keyed the mic. "That's affirmative. If you could start a second unit, non-emergency. I'll be out." He hung up the microphone and stepped out of the car. He turned on his portable radio and his flashlight. He slowly approached the vehicle and pressed his thumb on tail light before lightly knocking on the trunk. He noticed the windows were still rolled up and all were heavily tinted. "Driver roll the windows down." The front window rolled down halfway. The rear window stayed up. "Driver roll _all_ of the windows down." This time the driver complied. Gerald released the breath he didn't realize he was holding in and walked up further.

"Sheriff's Office to two five five," Helga said into the microphone. She hadn't even looked up from her book. She hated working communications, but it was easy overtime and she had a surprise for Arnold she was saving for.

"Two five five is on," Rhonda replied.

"Two five five, patrol to one three three's last to assist with a traffic stop. Vehicle occupied times three."

"Received, two five five en route."

Helga looked up at the clock. "Two five five en route at nineteen twenty-four." She released the foot pedal that activated her microphone and looked across the desk at Eugene. "Hey Eugene, you wanna log into Johansson's dashcam and keep an eye on him until Rhonda gets there?'

"Sure thing, Helga." Eugene brought up the dashcam software on his second computer and signed in to Gerald's vehicle. A low-quality video began to stream, indicating Gerald was in an area with poor wireless service. The video was delayed several seconds which allowed Eugene to watch Gerald approach the car. The audio on the feed was distorted, so Eugene couldn't hear what he was saying, but he could make out what was going on. Eugene flicked his eyes back to the TV on the other side of his work station and went back to watching Cops.

* * *

 **1925**

"Good evening. May I see your license and registration please?" Gerald asked politely.

The driver looked Gerald up and down. "Did I do something wrong, officer?"

 _You mean besides sizing me up right there like I wouldn't notice?_ "I had you on radar back there at eighty-four. Is there a reason you're driving that fast in a fify-five?"

The driver shrugged. "I guess I just wasn't paying attention."

"Okay, well I still need your license."

The driver finally started to reach toward his pocket to remove his wallet. Gerald watched him carefully until he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked at the passenger in the rear seat and saw him reaching into the pocket on the back of the passenger-side seat. Gerald took a step back toward the rear of the vehicle. "Hey, keep your hands where I can see them."

The passenger put his hands up. "Hey man, I didn't do nothin'."

"What's in the pocket?"

"Nothin'."

Gerald was about to reach for his radio to request his backup expedite when the passenger in the front seat opened the door.

"Hey! Get back in the vehicle!" Gerald's heart started pounding as he backed toward his patrol car. The driver and the other passenger were exiting the car now. Gerald pulled his pepper spray from its pouch. "All of you back in the car!"

"What're you gonna do, officer? You gonna shoot all three of us?"

Gerald held the pepper spray at arm's length in his right hand while he kept the driver illuminated with his flashlight. "Last warning before you get sprayed."

"Fuck you!" the passenger yelled.

The man at the back of the car and the driver started running at him. He started spraying at the driver first and coated his face. He managed to get the second man as well before the third slammed into him and knocked him on his back. The spray canister flew out his hand and rolled under the car. Gerald barely had time to press the large red button on top of his portable radio before his assailant pressed his forearm against his throat.

* * *

 **1927**

Helga jumped as the computer console next to her began chirping loudly. Her book fell from her lap as she turned to see what the cause of the alarm was. The screen read: **Panic Alarm – Johansson.**

Helga silenced the alarm as she called to Eugene. "What's going on with that dash cam, Horowitz?"

Eugene looked back to the computer and watched as the delayed stream showed Gerald spraying two attackers before being knocked to the ground. "Oh, shit. He's in a fight, Helga!"

"Fuck. Send it over to 911, Eugene." She activated the microphone. "Sheriff's Office to two five five. Officer in distress at your last. Respond priority one."

"Two five five copies."

"Sheriff's office to any units in the area of Pheasant Lane and Route 12, respond for officer in distress."

The other two zone patrols acknowledged her transmission as the 911 dispatcher began to advise all of the state patrols. Helga opened the dash cam software on her own computer so she could keep Rhonda advised on what was happening.

"Sheriff's Office to two five five, be advised we have one suspect on top of one three three. Two other suspects sprayed with OC. No visual on dash cam."

"Copy. ETA zero two."

* * *

 **1928**

Gerald had managed to get a hand between the man's forearm and his own throat. It was just enough to keep him from crushing his windpipe. He was using his free hand to push at the man's face and gouge his eyes, but his attacker had superior position and was able to fend him off. Gerald heard a siren in the distance and hoped he had gotten the other two with enough spray to keep them out of the fight for the next guy that showed up.

The man on top of him finally grabbed Gerald's free hand and pinned it to the ground. Gerald tried to kick him with his legs, but he wasn't in a position that gave him any leverage. The man on top of him sneered as he realized he finally had the upper hand. Gerald gave up struggling and focused on the arm pressed against his throat. He had to conserve his energy. Once he got too tired to keep that arm from choking him, the fight was over. Gerald couldn't hear the siren any more, but the man on top of him was suddenly illuminated by headlights. The man never took his eyes off Gerald and only pushed harder against his throat. The pressure only lasted a moment before the man suddenly disappeared from Gerald's sight.

* * *

 **1929**

Helga stood and hunched over the computer monitor as she watched Gerald struggling to get the man off of him. Her heart leaped into her throat as she watched the man pin Gerald's hand to the ground. She bit her lip, cursing the fact that she couldn't leave the dispatch center to help. _Phoebe will kill me if anything happens to him._

She saw the man light up from a new light source as another vehicle pulled up. Even though she was fairly sure it was Rhonda, she wasn't prepared when the raven-haired deputy appeared from the side of the video and plowed into man. Rhonda and the man rolled behind the suspect's car. Rhonda found her feet first and stood up. Helga watched as she drew her baton from her belt and flicked it open. The man was still struggling to his feet when Rhonda delivered a perfect blow to his left peroneal nerve. The man collapsed back to his knees and clutched his leg. Gerald scrambled toward the man and grabbed his right hand. He quickly twisted the arm behind the suspect and unceremoniously dumped him face first into the dirt. Rhonda dropped the baton and grabbed the other arm. She quickly slapped a cuff on it and handed the other side to Gerald. As he finished cuffing the suspect, Rhonda quickly moved out of frame and gathered one of the other two suspects. The man was doubled over, clearly in severe pain from the pepper spray Gerald had covered him with. As she was securing him, Helga watched as she yelled something and pointed toward the front of the car. A state officer entered the scene and ran around the suspect's vehicle. Helga couldn't see what was happening, but assumed he was securing the third man.

Helga sat back heavily in her chair and activated the microphone. "Sheriff's Office to all units responding to one three three's last. Multiple units on scene, you may slow your response." She closed her eyes and massaged her temples. _I'm never working commo again._

* * *

 **1935**

"You alright, Johansson?" Rhonda asked. She joined Gerald in leaning against the hood of PS 133. The rescue squad was on scene and was attempting to flush the pepper spray out of the eyes of the two suspects.

Gerald massaged his throat. "Yeah, never better," he rasped. He winced at the pain when he spoke.

"Just couldn't wait for me to get here first, huh?"

Gerald shrugged. "How was I supposed to know they were gonna get rowdy?"

After the three suspects had been secured, Rhonda had searched the car while Gerald ran all three men through the system. Two had warrants and Rhonda found a small amount of heroin in the car.

"Two bench warrants and a misdemeanor drug possession hardly seem worth the felony assault charges they racked up tonight," she mused.

"I never claimed to understand how the mind of a shit head works," Gerald croaked. He looked over at Rhonda. She was covered in mud, her knuckles were bloodied, her hair had come loose from its bun. "Thanks for getting' here so fast, Lloyd."

Rhonda shrugged. "I was right around the corner."

Gerald chuckled, the groaned in discomfort. "Well your drinks are on me the next we're at the bar."

Rhonda gave him a sad look. "I don't think I'm going to be invited out again after last time, Gerald. I kinda insulted your girlfriend by accident."

Gerald waved a hand at her. "Don't worry about it. Phoebe's over the whole thing already. And don't worry about Pataki either. I know how to get under her skin."

Rhonda smiled. "Thanks. Maybe I'll take you up on it."

"Ain't no 'maybe' about it. You saved my ass tonight. That earns you a spot at the table."

* * *

 **2000**

As Gerald and Rhonda pushed the three sullen men into the booking room, Helga watched from the doorway. She laughed softly to herself at the sight of the two pepper spray victims. Their eyes were puffy and their skin red. They sniffled and blinked incessantly.

"You two need any help with these jerk offs?" she asked.

"Nah, I got 'em. Thanks, Sarge," Gerald replied.

"Alright. And Gerald, if you ever get into trouble like that again, your girlfriend is going to kick _my_ ass. So, let's wait for the second car next time, okay?"

"Trust me Pataki, I'm not in a rush to get into a fight like that again."

"Good. And Princess?"

Rhonda looked up from the booking bench she was securing the suspects to. "Yeah Sarge?"

"If we ever play football, you're on my team." Helga didn't wait for a reply and left the room.

Gerald grinned at Rhonda. "I think that means she likes you."

* * *

 **0049**

Rhonda flopped heavily onto her bed clad in her bathrobe. She had arrived at her apartment sore, tired, and filthy. She had immediately tossed her uniform in the laundry and took a very long and very hot shower. Rhonda had been held over to help Gerald process their suspects and write the reports. She winced as she tried to put her arms behind her head. A large bruise had been growing on her right forearm from her full body tackle.

Rhonda lay on the bed for several minutes with her eyes closed and mind wandering. She was beginning to fade into sleep when her phone pinged and snapped her from her slumber. Plucking the phone off the night table, she scrolled to the text message she had just received from Helga.

 **You're off tomorrow. Drinks 1800. Usual place. Don't be late. DRESS CASUAL, YOU LUNATIC!**

Rhonda sent a short acknowledgment and smiled. Maybe Gerald was right. Maybe Helga did like her.

 **A/N: Things can go from zero to total shit show in seconds for a cop. People will behave like they're nuts when you thrown in the possibility of arrest, even for a relatively minor offense, and make everything worse (check out YouTuber Mike the Cop's video posted on October 25, 2018 for a very clear example of this). It's entirely possible that, in a situation like this, Gerald would be in a fight for his life for twenty or thirty minutes without backup in my county. That said, an officer needs assistance call comes in third on the priority list of things any cop responds to (first is shots fired, second is officer down). Once "Officer in distress" or "Officer needs assistance" goes out over the radio, anyone that can is coming to get you and the officer just needs to play for the tie until they get there.**

 **Our dispatchers can log in to our dashcams if we request them to do so or in an emergency. It has a few seconds of delay, however.**


	72. Chapter 71 - Changes

**Changes**

 **November 1, 0703**

Rhonda sat in the road room, working on his reports, when the sound of the motor pool door slamming against the wall nearly made her fall out of her seat. A very angry Helga stormed into the room holding a gas station coffee cup in her hand as she strode over to the vehicle sign out log. She glanced at it quickly before throwing the cup into the garbage. She looked over the room quickly and saw that Rhonda was the only one there. She glared at her.

"Where is Berman?" she growled.

"Harold? He just left a few minutes ago. Why?"

Helga threw her arms up and screeched in frustration before turning around and marching out into the hallway. Rhonda noticed she had some sort of stain all over the back of her uniform pants.

Arnold had just walked out of the Sergeant's office when he saw Helga coming down the hallway. "Hey, Helga, you got a sec- "

Helga held a hand up to silence him before walking into the women's locker room without a word, once again slamming the door against the wall.

"I'll, uh, wait in your office then," Arnold said as he turned around and headed back the way he came.

Five minutes later, a still seething Helga entered the office. Arnold said nothing as she stomped to her chair, sat down heavily and immediately cradled her head in her hands.

"Tell me something, Football Head," she said softly. "Does Harold Berman actually exist?"

Arnold stared at her. "Uh, well yes. Why do you ask?"

She finally uncovered her face and huffed. "Because other than the day he was hired, I don't think I've ever seen that bloated, pink-faced buffoon. I hear about him, I read his reports, I see the results of his… 'work'," she placed that word in air quotes. "But I never see him. I'm starting to think he's some sort of alter ego of mine. A Jekyll and Hyde thing. Or maybe he's my Tyler Durden. I just had to change my pants because I was doing a vehicle inspection on his car. I jumped in to turn on the computer and sat on his cup of tobacco spit."

Arnold shuddered. _That's pretty nasty,_ he thought.

Helga looked at Arnold. "Harold and I are never seen in the same place at the same time. Please tell me I don't chew tobacco at night when I sleep walk or something. He's not some pork rind-induced, sleepwalk alter ego, is he?"

Arnold laughed. "Trust me, I'm pretty sure I'd know if you were doing dip." He stood up and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "Plus, at this point I'm pretty sure I'd know if you were sneaking out of bed to in the middle of the night to go work A lines."

"Good," she said as she grinned up at him. "That means I'll have the tactile sensation of strangling him with my bare hands."

Arnold coughed. "Um, yes, I suppose so. Now, do you have a minute to discuss a case with me?"

"Now that we've solved my most pressing mental health concern, sock it to me, Hair Boy."

* * *

Rhonda peered curiously after Helga after the blond stomped out of the room, wincing when she heard another door slamming. It was followed a moment later by the door on her side of the road room slamming open, causing her to jump.

"Sorry Deputy, I didn't mean to startle you," Captain Wartz said. "Do you have a moment?"

Rhonda caught her breath before responding "Yes, sir." She followed the Captain down the hallway to his office. _Why do I always feel like I'm heading to the principal's office when I do this?_ she thought. They entered the office and the Captain motioned to an empty chair.

"Deputy Lloyd, I see that you put your name on the list for School Resource Deputy."

"Yes, sir."

"Are you not satisfied with your current position?"

"No, sir, I'm not," she replied quickly.

Wartz leaned back in his chair, a look of mild surprise on his face. "I'm sorry to hear that. It doesn't have to do with your current supervisor, does it?"

"Not at all, sir. Sergeant Pataki has been an excellent supervisor."

"Then may I ask what the problem is?"

Rhonda shifted uncomfortably. "It's… a somewhat personal issue, sir. Family related."

Wartz cocked an eyebrow. "I see. Well, if you're simply looking to satisfy your father, I don't think a school is the best place for you."

"No!" Rhonda yelled as she sat up straight on the edge of the chair. Wartz regarded her curiously. Rhonda regained her composure. "It's about me, sir. Not him."

"Interesting. Deputy Jackson had left me under the impression that-"

"With all due respect, Captain. Nadine did not confer with me before passing her _opinion_ on to you and the Sheriff."

Wartz leaned back and steepled his fingers. "I see. Well, the post currently between you and one other candidate. The Sheriff will be making his decision in a few days. But I must warn you, the district that's open is the smallest in the county. I'm not sure it will keep you… entertained, for lack of a better word."

Rhonda shrugged. "The only way to know is to try, sir. But I don't intend to lock myself in my office if I get the position. The point is to make connections with the students, and I intend to do that if given the chance."

"A politically astute response. That's all, Deputy. You're dismissed."

Rhonda stood up and walked quickly out of the room and back down the hall. As she entered the still empty road room a smile crept across her face. _50/50. I'll take those odds._

* * *

"Excuse me, Helga?"

Helga looked up from her desk. Lila was standing in the doorway holding a sheet of paper. Helga returned her eyes to her paperwork. "If it's not Mary Sunshine herself. What can I do for you?"

"Well, you forgot to sign the affidavit on that civil paper you served yesterday." Lila approached Helga's desk and handed her the paper.

"Sorry about that," Helga said as she took the paper and scribbled a signature on it. She looked up at Lila as she handed it back. Lila smiled and began to leave the office. "Hey, Lila?" Helga called.

Lila stopped and turned around. "Yes Helga?"

"Can I ask you a somewhat personal question? You don't have to answer it if you don't want to."

Lila smiled broadly. "Of course, Helga."

Helga rolled her eyes. _She probably thinks this is 'girl time.'_ "When you went on that date with Arnold, you told him you thought he was stuck on someone else. Who were you talking about?"

Lila tilted her head to the side and gave Helga a curious look. _She looks like a confused dog with those braids,_ Helga thought as she tried to suppress a grin.

"Well, you, of course," Lila replied.

Now it was Helga's turn to be confused. "Me?"

Lila smiled. "Oh, it was ever so obvious, Helga. I could tell by the way he looked at you at the theater. And he spoke about you. A lot." Lila's smile turned sad and she averted her eyes to the floor. "He's a good man and you're lucky to have him."

"Oh," was all Helga could muster as a response. Now she just felt awkward. She hadn't meant to bring up what appeared to be a sore subject for Lila.

"Was there anything else?" Lila asked.

"Uh, no. I was just… curious." Lila nodded and left the room. Helga sighed and hung her head. _Stupid Little Miss Perfect and her perfect-ness. Now I feel like a jerk._

 **A/N: Sorry for the delay. I was on vacation last week, and this week was busy.**

 **Nep2uune: The delay is just the nature of the system. It has to be processed by the recorder then sent over cell phone signal to the server, then streamed from the server to the dispatcher. That's going to create a delay of several seconds and poor quality if the patrol unit that's transmitting has poor cell service. Also, officer down, in my estimation, means you have an officer that's out of the fight. Officer needs assistance is the only call that's second to officer down in importance.**

 **Guest: Two or more officers would be great, but we don't have the man power for that. Our day shift could be as small as 2 deputies for 650 square miles and 60,000+ residents. Ideally you would wait for a second unit if you had reason to believe it was a dangerous stop. But 99% of stops with multiple occupants in the car aren't going to be an issue (unless you're doing a take-down of a specific vehicle). But yes, if two officers had been there it's unlikely that there would have been an escalation.**

 **Sarah G: Yes, I am ;)**


	73. Chapter 72 - Christmas Cheer

**Christmas Cheer**

 **December 23, 0728**

"Deputy Lloyd, a moment in my office please?"

"Yes-" The Captain had already left the doorway before she could complete her reply. "Sir." Rhonda glanced over at Helga, who was seated at the next computer. The blond simply shrugged before shooing her out of the room.

Rhonda walked briskly down the hall and followed Wartz into his office. "Shut the door please," he said. Rhonda did as she was instructed and stood in front of the Captain's desk. "Deputy Lloyd," Wartz said as he sat in his chair. "I wanted to advise you that you have been appointed to the School Resource Deputy position. You'll start January 2nd, when the students return from winter break. You'll keep your current patrol car and call sign. How familiar are you with the district?"

Rhonda worked hard to keep a smile from forming on her face. "I know it's rural, two buildings, and about 450 students in total for all grades. I've met the superintendent before but that's about it."

Wartz folded his hands. "That's good enough for a start. The out-going deputy will meet you there on the 2nd and introduce you to everyone, but after that you'll largely be on your own. You're also going to be reassigned to Sergeant Winthrop at that point. Get all of your cases in order and prepare them to be turned over to Sergeant Pataki for reassignment to road patrol deputies. Do you have any questions?"

"No, sir. I'm sure I will, but right now I just want to say thank you for the opportunity."

Wartz waved dismissively. "Fine, fine. You'll remain at your regular posting until the 2nd. That is all."

Rhonda nodded and exited the room. She was so excited that it was all she could do to keep from skipping back to the road room. As she entered, Helga looked up at her. "What're you so happy about, Princess?"

"I got the school!" she practically squealed.

"Ah, right. Well congrats. Looking forward to working with rug rats all day?"

"I'm looking forward to something different." She sat down heavily. "Hopefully I can see a more immediate effect of my work if I'm dealing with kids than I do arresting the same idiots for the same things out here."

"Well, good luck. I couldn't do it. You working the next two days?"

Rhonda's smile faded slightly. "Yeah, B lines. You?"

"C line tomorrow. Then I'm off for two. Kinda sucks, I like the double time on Christmas, and it's never really been my kind of holiday."

Rhonda chuckled. "Yeah, I'm sure the missing children disagree." Helga's face drained of color and her eyes went wide as she froze. Rhonda sat up straight. "Oh my God, it's true isn't it?" she cried.

Helga glanced around hurriedly. "Will shut the fuck up?!" she whispered harshly.

Rhonda covered her mouth with her hands for a moment before leaning toward Helga. "You really saved all those kids from a human trafficker?"

Helga cocked an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

"The story around the office is that you snuck off and saved a bunch of kids from drug den that was selling them into prostitution."

Helga slapped her face. _Of_ course, _a rumor would start and get bent out of shape. I'm going to have a very long chat with Football Head about who he shares secrets with._ "Listen, you can't tell anyone about this. It was just one kid, and was from some punk heroin dealer, not a child prostitution ring. Who the hell told you about that, anyway?"

Rhonda leaned back. "I have my sources," she replied flippantly.

"Whatever," Helga growled. She'd investigate on her own. And someone would definitely be unhappy when she figured out who started that particular rumor. "Anyway, got big plans at the Lloyd family abode for Christmas?"

Rhonda slumped slightly before catching herself. It didn't go unnoticed by Helga. "Oh, uh, yeah. Daddy always has a big dinner Christmas Eve, and then our usual gift giving on Christmas day. But since I'm working, I'm, uh, well, I guess we're going to do it on the weekend."

 _That sounded wholly unconvincing_ , Helga thought. Before she could reply the radio squawked. "Sheriff's Office to zero one zero."

Helga rolled her eyes. _They know I'm at the office. They could just call on the phone._ She removed the microphone from the radio. "Zero one zero is on."

"Zero one zero, contact one three three. He's on the scene of burglary with forced entry. He's requesting a supervisor to the scene."

"Received. Show me en route." Helga hung up the microphone. "Duty calls. Catch you later, Rhondaloid." Helga grabbed her clipboard and hurriedly exited to the motor pool.

"Yeah. Later," Rhonda said quietly to an empty room.

* * *

 **December 25, 0846**

"911 to any patrols in the area of 397 Roland Drive, apartment 112, Village of Leland, respond priority one. Caller reports a male subject unresponsive and cyanotic at that location. Possible heroin overdose."

Rhonda reached for the microphone as she heard a Leland PD unit respond.

"Leland One en route."

Rhonda waited for 911 to acknowledge before keying the microphone. "Two five five en route to assist." She activated her lights and sirens and pulled a hasty U turn. Thankfully the roads were almost completely empty so early in the morning on Christmas. She had just passed through the village a minute before and was about two miles from the incident location. The Leland car must have been right around the corner, as she heard him call on scene in a matter of seconds. She accelerated down the main stretch of highway that ran through the village. _What's taking EMS so long to respond? They're only a half mile from there,_ she wondered.

"Two five five out," she said as she pulled up behind the Leland car. She grabbed the nylon pouch that contained her Nalaxone doses and ran into the building. Leland was in her community patrol area, and she had done many walkthroughs of the building, which was an apartment complex for the elderly that were still capable of living on their own. She ran down the hall to the open door on apartment 12. As she entered, she saw two women, one elderly and one middle-aged, standing in the kitchen and looking thoroughly distressed. They didn't speak when she entered but just pointed down the hall to the bathroom.

As Rhonda entered the bathroom, she found the Leland officer kneeling next to a man in his early 20s. His skin was blue and while he appeared to be gasping, she could tell he wasn't getting enough oxygen to sustain life. Blood trickled slowly from a small puncture on his arm. A hypodermic needle was on the bathroom floor next to him, and she could see a spoon, a lighter, and several empty paper packets on the edge of the sink. The Leland officer was taking the man's pulse.

"Heart rate is way too slow, and he's in agonal breathing," the officer said before looking up at her.

"Did you give him Narcan?"

The officer shook his head. "Our office isn't certified yet. All I can do is wait for him to go into arrest and give him CPR if it happens before EMS gets here."

Rhonda knelt down on the other side of the man and pulled her medical gloves from her back pocket. She unzipped the nylon back and removed the Narcan tubes from their box. She had only done this once, in training, a year ago. Her hands shook as she struggled to put the three simple pieces of the nasal applicator together. Fighting through the nervousness, she finally got all three parts together. She put the foam cone in the man's nostril and pushed the plunger, squirting half of the drug into one side of his nose before repeating the process for the other side. She stood up and moved away from the patient. "Give him space. We're about to ruin his high and he might come out swinging." The Leland cop nodded and backed away while Rhonda activated her portable radio. "Two five five to 911, advise EMS Narcan administered at this time."

Rhonda watched the man. He was still gasping and was still blue. _Is it too late? They said this stuff works right away._ Even as the thought ran through her mind, his gasps began to get longer and finally settle into normal breathing. As his color began to come back, she heard a clatter in the hallway as the EMS crew approached. She checked her watch. _Ten minutes to go a half mile from your station. Excellent work, fellas._ As the EMTs pulled the stretcher into the bathroom hallway, the man's eyes fluttered open. Rhonda moved toward the sink to make room for the medics and began to collect the drug paraphernalia as the Leland officer grabbed the needle from the floor. The medical team spoke briefly with the man before standing him up and walking him over to the stretcher.

The Leland officer shook his head. "And to think, about five minutes ago he was about to die. Now he's walking." He patted Rhonda on the shoulder. "I think you gave this family a pretty good Christmas present, huh?"

"Yeah. Sure," Rhonda replied. "All in day's work, right?"

The village officer put his hand out toward her. Rhonda looked at it stupidly for a moment. "I'll take the drugs. This mess is technically my call."

"Oh, right." She handed him the items. "You need anything else?"

The man shook his head. "Nah. I'm gonna follow them to the hospital and get his statement. Hopefully that's it for today. Have a Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Rhonda muttered as she slumped against the sink. She felt drained and she hadn't even done anything.

* * *

 **1439**

Rhonda sat at the desk in the road room, her feet up, tapping idly away on some time-wasting app on her phone. She didn't even bother to learn the names of them anymore. They were the flavor of the week. She played it until she hit the pay wall, then deleted it and moved on to the next one.

"911 to any patrols in the area of 90 Millbridge Road, Village of Leland, respond for a report of female subject making suicidal statements to her parents. Physical domestic in progress, father is attempting to restrain the female who is destroying property inside the residence."

Rhonda groaned and put her feet on the floor. _So close to getting out on time._ "Two five five en route." _Who are you kidding? You weren't doing anything when you got home anyway._

The trip was 15 minutes long if one drove normally, but Rhonda was able to make it in 10. As she approached the house, she could hear shouting inside. A distraught woman was standing on the porch to the trailer.

"They're inside! He had to hold her back. She was breaking everything!" the woman said through her tears.

"What room are they in?" Rhonda asked as she pulled on her leather patrol gloves. Like many cops, she didn't want to have skin to skin contact with people she didn't know if she could avoid. Unlike many cops, she also wanted to protect her manicure as much as possible.

"Her bedroom. All the way down the hall, last door on the left. Please, don't hurt her. She's just not well."

Rhonda could hear a woman wailing from the back of the house. "Yeah, just stay here. I'll be back in a minute."

Rhonda hurried down the hall and could see a trail of destruction throughout the trailer. Picture frams knocked from walls, the coffee table overturned, a hole in a wall. The bedroom had clearly born the brunt of the damage. A TV was smashed and laying on the floor, multiple holes in the walls, the sliding closet door had been knocked out of its track, and a lamp had clearly been thrown across the room. A very large man was laying on top of a heavy-set woman. The woman was yelling hysterically, screaming at the man to get off of her. Rhonda recognized the woman as a former classmate from school. After a moment of struggle, she remembered the woman's name. She crouched down in front of her.

"Chelsea, what's going on?" she asked.

"Fuck you! Fuck everyone! I hate this family! I'm gonna go kill myself, you assholes!"

 _Well then._ "Chelsea, I don't think that's what you want."

"It _is_ what I want! Why the fuck are _you_ here, Rhonda? This is bullshit! My own family hates me and calls the cops on me? I hate them all! I just wanna die!"

"Chelsea, you broke a bunch of things here. You're having a really bad day. That's all this is. Why don't you let me take to the hospital so you can talk to someone?"

"If it'll get me away from these mother fuckers, you can take me anywhere. Get the fuck off me you fat fuck!"

"You can go with me in the police car, or in the ambulance. Which would you prefer? If you ride with me, you have to wear the handcuffs." Rhonda kept her voice as soothing as she could. Chelsea had already calmed visibly.

"I don't trust the ambulance. I know you. I'll go with you."

Rhonda removed a pair of cuffs from her belt and nodded to the man. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"I've got her. She'll be fine." The man got off Chelsea slowly. The large woman stayed on the floor, still crying but not struggling. Rhonda offered her a hand to stand up, which Chelsea accepted. She continued crying and wailing as Rhonda put the handcuffs on her, but she didn't struggle or move. Rhonda walked her to the car and placed her in the back seat as her parents and the ambulance crew watched. Chelsea cried for the whole ride to the hospital.

 **1827**

Rhonda flopped onto her couch wearing sweat pants and a hooded sweatshirt. She had showered but she didn't have the energy to make something to eat or go out. She just wanted to sit and stare at the ceiling for a while, lost in her own thoughts. _I kinda know how Chelsea feels. It sucks when your own father doesn't seem to want you around._ Before she could follow that thought down the rabbit hole into self-pity, her phone chimed.

 **Helga: you home?**

Rhonda tapped out a quick reply. **Yup. Lousy shift**

 **Helga: I heard. Standby**

Rhonda frowned. _Standby? It's a text message. Standby for what?_ Rhonda jumped when she heard a knock at her door. She sighed heavily as she got up and looked through the peephole. She couldn't see anything except some black hair on the top of someone's head. She opened the door and looked down.

"Hi Rhonda!" Phoebe chirped happily.

"Phoebe? What are you doing here?"

"We heard you had a bad day," Gerald said from the hallway.

Rhonda peeked her head out and saw Gerald, Arnold, and Helga standing off to one side. Helga smirked and shook her phone at Rhonda. They were all carrying bowls, dishes, and trays of food.

"I'm hardly in the mood for company, or dressed to entertain, for that matter."

Helga elbowed Rhonda out of the doorway. "Yeah, yeah. Just show me where the kitchen is so I can put this stuff down already."

Rhonda was about to protest when the rest of the crew entered the room. "But-"

"But nothing. This is happening. Deal with it," Helga said. The blond woman removed a bottle of champagne from the bag she was carrying. "I'm sure you know how to open this better than I do. And I don't know anything about champagne, so if it's not up to your standards, I don't want to hear it."

Rhonda shook her head and sighed. She started to close the door, but Arnold stopped her.

"There's one more coming," he said with a smile.

Rhonda was about to reply when she heard another voice from the hallway.

"Hey, Rhonda."

Rhonda turned slowly, a look of shock on her face. "Uh, hey."

"Is it, you know, okay if I join you guys?" Nadine said nervously.

Rhonda stood for a moment, a million things swirling through her head at once. A few awkward moments later, she smiled. "I would love that, Nadine."

 **A/N: I left you guys hanging long enough so I cranked this one out this morning. I hope you all have a Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Both of those calls are real and happened the first Christmas Day I worked (in the first call I would've been in the Leland officer's shoes though). Narcan (Nalaxone) is an amazing thing.**


	74. Chapter 73 - Against All Enemies

**Against all Enemies**

 **December 30, 1449**

Arnold was sitting at a computer finishing his activity sheet for the day when Curly entered the road room. He cast a glance at Arnold before sitting down heavily in the computer across from him. The other deputies in the room continued working and chatting.

"So, Shortman. I hear you pulled over Wolfgang today."

Arnold leaned around the computer and looked at Curly. "Yeah, I did. Why?"

"You get in the car? He's a pusher. He's always got drugs on him." Curly already knew the answer to the question.

Arnold shook his head. "No. I didn't smell anything, and he didn't give me any probable cause. No warrants, either."

Curly leaned forward, frowning. "Shortman, when you stop a guy like Wolfgang, you smell weed."

Helga and Gerald were approaching the road room from the hallway when Helga heard Curly's comment. She stopped and grabbed Gerald's shirt to bring him to a halt.

"Pataki, what- "

Helga held a finger to her mouth. Gerald stopped talking. "Just listen for a minute. Let's see where this goes." Gerald frowned but nodded.

Arnold gave Curly a confused look. "But I didn't smell anything."

"Shortman, I don't think you understand me. You _always_ smell weed when you stop Wolfgang. You get me?"

Arnold frowned. "Yeah, I hear you. And I'm not doing that."

Curly waved a hand at him. "And you wonder why you can't get any drug arrests."

Arnold was getting angry now. "I'm not going to run around violating people's rights just to bump my numbers. It's wrong and illegal. I'm not doing it."

"These pushers don't give a shit about rights and neither should you. You want to get this poison off the streets, you need to start being creative with PC. Lean on them, threaten them with calling CPS to have their kids taken away. Do what you have to do get in that car and get your drug arrest."

Arnold's shocked expression lasted only a moment before he stood up and pointed angrily at Curly. "You know what? You're _exactly_ the reason people look at us as though we're thugs. If you can't get your arrests the right way, you shouldn't be doing this job!"

Gerald was getting anxious. "Pataki, we should break this up before it gets out of hand," he whispered.

Helga shook her head. "He's testing him, Geraldo. Arnold needs to handle this himself."

"Pataki, have you ever seen him angry? I mean _really_ angry?"

Helga raised an eyebrow. "You've seen us fight, Gerald. You know how angry I can make him."

"That's different. He _loves_ you. He thinks Curly is an arrogant jerk-off who's ego is too big for his boots."

Helga gave Gerald a surprised look. "Arnold said that?"

"I took some creative license, but if you let this keep going, he's going to say worse. And he might even go after him."

Helga nodded. "Okay, but we're not going in there yet. They both need to get this out of their system. And if Arnold is going to earn some cred about his convictions with the other guys, he's going to need to push this to brink. I can't be seen bailing him out of it or he'll look like he's using his girlfriend to finish his fights."

Gerald shook his head. "I hope you know what you're doing, Pataki."

In the road room, the argument had continued.

"Oh, get over yourself, Shortman. You walk around here all high and mighty, like you're better than the rest of us. But what do you actually _do_ to clean up the streets? Not what it takes, that's for sure." Curly crossed his arms and glared at Arnold.

"I'm not going to violate the public trust just to get some heroin junkie in front of a judge."

"They don't get punished for possession half the time anyway, so what does it matter? The judges just let them walk."

"Well if it makes no difference then why put your credibility on the line just to get the arrest? One of these days you're going to get caught in the lie, and you'll get torn apart by every attorney in every case for the rest of your career. All for a misdemeanor drug possession or even a violation marijuana bust. Yeah, big man, you are."

Curly shot to his feet. "Fuck you! It's not about the junkies we arrest. They're the ones that give us the intel on the _dealers_. Without the addicts, we can't connect the dots to the pushers and the mules. Without them, we don't get the warrants to hit the distributors. It's all part of the game, Shortman, and you're refusing to play."

"It's not a God damned game, Gammelthorpe! These are people's _lives_! I have no problem throwing dealers in prison, but I'm not going to trample on the rights of half a dozen other citizens just to get there. And if that means some of these guys get away with it a little longer, then I have to accept that, because they're innocent until proven guilty."

Everyone in the room was looking at the two deputies, a few were even backing away as they watched them both begin to tense up.

"Then anyone that dies from the shit they push is on you. Because you're not willing to do what it takes, people are _dying_."

"Don't pretend like you suddenly care about the addicts, Curly. I've heard you in here too many times talking about how we should just let the overdose victims die instead of hitting them with Narcan. And yet I happen to know you got your life-saver ribbon from a Narcan save. You fucking hypocrite. You talk a big game, but you're just a coward."

"I'm here to protect the public, Shortman. It seems to me like you're just here to be a fucking hero. If that's all you wanted, you should have been a firefighter. There's no room in this profession for a pussy-whipped wanna-be like you."

"I took an oath to uphold the Constitution. If you think you can violate due process whenever you want, then I guess that makes you my enemy."

Fury flashed in Curly's eyes and he clenched his fists. He and Arnold stared at each other for a long moment before both of them started to lunge at each other. Other deputies reached for the two of them, pulling them apart as the room erupted into yelling and cursing.

Helga and Gerald looked at each other. "Okay, now's good," she said. "Stand down, you two! That's an order!" Helga shouted. Arnold backed down but never took his eyes off Curly. Curly finally shrugged off the hands that had held him back, but he met Arnold's glare.

Gerald put his hand on Arnold's shoulder. "Man, you okay?"

"Fine, Gerald. Just fine," Arnold muttered through clenched teeth.

"Shortman, go wait in my office," Helga said sternly.

"Yes, ma'am," Arnold said curtly before spinning on his heel and marching out of the room.

Helga turned to Curly. "If I _ever_ hear you stretching PC just to get in cars, Gammelthorpe, I'll have your badge in a heartbeat. You understand me?"

Curly sneered at her. "Don't pretend like you're innocent, Pataki. You've bluffed your way into many a vehicle search in your own time."

Helga strode over to the shorter deputy and stood toe to toe with him. She looked down on him with a hateful glare. "You wanna go watch all my dash cam videos, be my guest. What am I going to see if I review _yours_?" She saw a flash of hesitation in Curly's eyes. "Oh, that's right, you're the one that's always writing up your computer for 'dash cam malfunction.' From this point forward, you will test your patrol car's dash cam _prior_ to going on patrol. If there is a problem with it, then you will contact me, and I will assign you to a vehicle with a working system. Am I understood, Deputy Gammelthorpe?" Curly stared at her. "Am I clear, Deputy?" Curly merely nodded. "Now go the fuck home. I'm done with you." Helga turned and left the room before Curly could respond.

Helga strode quickly down to the sergeant's office. Arnold waited inside, looking somewhat embarrassed and wringing his hands. "Uh, hey," he said sheepishly.

Helga shut the door behind her and cocked an eyebrow at him. "What's wrong with you?"

"I kinda lost my cool back there."

Helga sat down on the edge of her desk. "I'll say you did. Doesn't mean you were wrong though."

"Maybe. But I shouldn't have let him get to me like that."

Helga shrugged. "He did it on purpose. He was trying to get a rise out of you and see how you'd react."

Arnold's shoulders slumped. Helga fought the urge to walk over and give him a hug. Even behind closed doors, it was inappropriate for her to do that sort of thing at work.

"I probably looked like a fool in front of everyone else," he muttered.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, Football Head. You were ready to get into fisticuffs with Curly over your convictions. I'd say they at least know you're serious about what you believe in. Let's face it, Curly would've wiped the floor with you"

Arnold gave her a hurt look. "I can handle myself, you know."

Helga smirked at him. "I know that. But he's also the defensive tactics instructor at the academy and he's a Jiu Jitsu expert. Plus, he's a crazy person."

Arnold didn't look convinced. "Maybe. I was pretty pissed though."

"I didn't even need to be in the room to know that." He narrowed his eyes at her, so she rolled her own. "Okay, Gerald and I listened to the whole thing from the hallway."

"And you let it get to that point?"

"Hey, like I said, he was testing you. You needed to pass that test on your own. You can't have your big, bad, super sexy girlfriend breaking up your fights for you. You handled yourself just fine, I might add."

Arnold crossed his arms and smiled at her. "Good job sneaking sexy in there, by the way."

Helga shrugged. "I only speak the truth, Football Head."

Arnold sighed. "I guess I should change and head home. You coming over tonight?"

Hela smiled at him. "I dunno, that display of machismo you put on back there was _such_ a turn off, I'm not sure I could stand to be alone with you," she replied sarcastically.

Arnold chuckled. "I know when I'm not wanted." He bent down and placed a quick kiss on Helga's lips on his way out. "I'll see you in a bit."

Helga shook her head while a big grin graced her face. _Such a football head._

 **A/N: I've had a much more tame version of this argument before. I get where guys like Curly are coming from. But to many of us, that oath actually means something. To violate someone's rights is to violate the very purpose of the Constitution itself. Philosophically, an arrest is a suspension of a citizen's rights, particularly the right to travel freely and unmolested by the government. As such, EVERY arrest, even a traffic ticket, should be taken seriously by every officer. Sadly, that's not always the case. I've had to let many a scum bag go because I didn't have legitimate probable cause to arrest them or that gets me a vehicle search. I've had to leave violent criminals to hide in their homes even when I know they're inside because an arrest warrant doesn't allow me to search the premises. I MUST do these things because while sometimes it protects guilty people from being prosecuted, it also protects innocent people from having to go through the legal system when they don't deserve to.**


	75. Chapter 74 - Back to School

**Back to School**

 **January 2, 2017, 0650**

Rhonda parked next to Deputy Beaufort's patrol car. She let out a deep breath. _I never thought I'd actually_ want _to go back to high school._ She turned off the car and stepped out into the cold. It was a cold January morning and the wind was blowing. St. Germaine Junior/Senior High School was in the northeastern corner of the county. The Town of St. Germaine was one of the so-called "hill towns" in the county. It was extremely rural, with a few small businesses, gas stations, and restaurants, but was not large enough to even warrant its own grocery store. The hill towns were also, as one might expect, at higher elevations and rougher terrain than much of the rest of the county. This resulted in different weather from the lowlands closer to the city. Even though it was cold at her apartment in the Hillwood suburbs, it was even colder here, and the winds were blowing. A light snow was falling as she walked toward the main entrance, even though it was completely dry in the city.

As she entered the foyer, she could see Deputy Beaufort standing just inside the main doors. She smiled at him as she entered.

"Waiting for me, Deputy Beaufort?"

"In a way, Deputy Lloyd. This is actually your post during drop off."

She tugged off her gloves. "At the front door? You just stand here?"

Beaufort nodded. "Absolutely. The only time this door unlocked is the first half hour of the morning. Anyone can come in with the students. Plus, I want to be the first person they see in the morning, and the first person that sees them."

Rhonda gave him a confused look. "Why is that?"

"Because I want them to know I'm here. If I'm here every day, then it's normalcy for them. And I want to see them to judge their moods. You can usually tell when someone's having a bad day the second they walk in. And you can see if someone's carrying a bag or case big enough for a long gun. But mostly I just like giving them a cheery 'good morning' while they're still half asleep."

"I see. Are you going to introduce me to all the kids this morning?"

Beaufort chuckled. "This may be the smallest district in the county, but we still have 200 kids in six grades in this building. You'd forget all of their names and they honestly aren't going to care about you right away. You've gotta make those connections on your own terms."

Rhonda frowned. "That's a little intimidating."

Beaufort shrugged. "Yeah, but it's the truth. The kids that like me might not like you at all. But you'll find your own group of kids that will come to you with their problems instead of the counselors, teachers, or administrators. That's always the way it goes. With any SRO that tries, anyway." He peered over Rhonda's shoulder and through the windows. "The first bus is here. Come stand next to me and I'll point out the kids you need to be aware of."

"Are there that many problem kids?"

"The poverty rate in this district is 40%. There are lots of kids from broken homes. It's not that they're violent or they do criminal things. Most of them are just troubled."

Rhonda stood next to the older man and greeted the students as they entered the school. Most of them gave her sidelong glances or ignored her altogether. A few gave a terse "morning" or a grunt. One girl, a slender, average-height brunette with light brown hair, gave her a big smile.

"Good morning," Rhonda said.

"Good morning!" the girl replied enthusiastically. "How are you?"

Rhonda froze for a moment, surprised as the question. "I'm well. Yourself?"

"Cold!" the girl replied as she strode past toward the lockers.

"That's Amy," Beaufort said. "Sweet kid. Parents are a little hard on her, but she's a gifted athlete. Only 13 but she could probably out-play most of the boys on the varsity soccer team."

"She seems nice," Rhonda said as she watched the girl walk down the hall, giggling with her friends.

The few teachers that came in the main entrance stopped to say hello as Beaufort made introductions. When the bells finally rang, he locked the doors. "Make sure this door is secured by 0735 every day. Building security is your primary responsibility. Everyone else that shows up from here on in has to be buzzed in by the office staff, even the students. Only district employees have key cards."

Beaufort walked her through the halls, giving her a tour of the building and pointing out the places where students would try to hide or sneak off. The main part of the building was old, built in the 1920s, but there had been a half dozen additions in the intervening decades. While the original building was two stories, the remainder of the additions were technically one story, but not all of the new sections were on the same level, resulting in small staircases throughout as well as oddly sized rooms with many nooks, cubbies, and hidden staircases.

"Get as familiar with this floorplan as you can, because this place is a tactical nightmare," Beaufort said. "You can't control hallways easily because of changes in height, there are tons of fatal funnels from stairwells, and the door 911 can pop remotely goes right into a narrow entry and staircase."

"Has SWAT been in here to get familiar with it?" Rhonda asked.

Beaufort shook his head. "No one ever comes up here. Have _you_ ever been here?"

Rhonda flinched. "I can't say that I have."

Beaufort shrugged. "Learn the place, because if the worst happens here you could be on your own for as long as a half hour, depending on where help is coming from. The state station isn't too far, but it's not staffed most of the time. Do you have an EMT certification or medical training?"

"Uh, no, not really. Just the CPR/AED stuff and that class we took on applying tourniquets."

"Well, if I may make a suggestion, go get your EMT once you get settled in here. The school nurses are fine, but they're not accustomed to operating under stress here. If something really goes wrong, you're more likely to do a better job than they are. Dealing with a bleeding kid is a little different from dealing out ice packs and cough drops."

Rhonda frowned. "It's that bad?"

Beaufort shrugged. "If we're being honest, statistically the worst they'll ever have to deal with is a broken bone. But we can't afford to only prepare for 'most likely' scenarios. We have to prepare for worst cases, and you're probably going to be on your own for a while. Anyway, let's head down to the elementary school. The layout there is simpler, so it shouldn't take long."

* * *

 **1038**

The trip to the elementary school had been straight forward, with a tour, introductions, and young children that were in awe of seeing _two_ police officers instead of the one they were accustomed to. By the time they returned to high school, lunch was in session and Beaufort insisted she needed to be present in the cafeteria. As Rhonda watched the students sitting down to eat, it quickly became apparent what the social groups looked like and who the dominant personalities were. She could see the jocks, the nerds, the mean girls, the stoners, and all of the various other stereotypes a school contained.

The middle school lunch had been raucous and grating. The gym teacher thankfully took students into the gym for recess after they had finished eating, muttering something about how middle schoolers should be sent to another planet until they reached 9th grade. Many of the students that remained were engrossed with their phones. Rhonda wasn't innocent of that vice and was playing with her own while Beaufort droned on about… something. She wasn't even sure what. Rhonda was busy reading about the latest teen fashion trends (research, she told herself) when she noticed a pair of sneakers on the floor in front of her. She looked up to see a very tall young woman with long brown hair and big, blue eyes looking at her nervously and clutching a phone in her hands.

"Can I help you with something?" she said, trying to sound as pleasant as possible.

"Um, I was told to make you read this," the girl said. She held the phone out in front of her.

Rhonda took it despite her confusion. _Who would be telling her to give me something to read?_ She looked down at the text message on the screen.

 **Stop playing with your phone and talk to the kids, Rhondaloid – H**

Rhonda looked back at the girl in shock. "Why is Helga texting your phone about me?"

The girl shifted her weight from one foot to the other, rocking slightly. "Well, uh, she's my big sister for that mentoring program. She knew you were going to be here today. I don't know how she knew you would be on your phone, though."

Rhonda groaned. _I swear that woman can see things through the Force._ She looked back to the still uncomfortable young woman in front of her. "Well, she knows me better than she probably should. What's your name?"

"Samantha. But Helga calls me Sam or Sammy. What's yours?"

"I'm Deputy Lloyd. But as you can see, Helga calls me Rhondaloid." She smiled at the girl and held out her hand. "It's nice to meet you Sam."

Sam finally relaxed. "It's nice to meet you too, Deputy Lloyd." She took Rhonda's hand and shook it.

"You can call me Rhonda, Sam. If you can put up with Helga, you've earned that much."

Sam smiled. "Okay, Deputy Rhonda."

"No, just… actually, Deputy Rhonda is fine. Go with that." She handed the phone back.

Before Sam could reply, the bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period. Sam smiled briefly before running back to her table to gather her things.

"She's a great kid. Excellent athlete," Beaufort said. "Pataki's probably been the best thing that happened to her, frightening as that is."

"Yeah, well, she's not quite the horror show she wants everyone to think she is."

Beaufort shrugged. "I never had to work with her. I've been in here since before she got hired. I just hear the stories." He checked his watch. "Two more lunch periods. These are the high school kids. I'll point out potential trouble kids, so you know who to watch."

* * *

 **1303**

Following their lunch periods (and a brief round of gym kickball with the middle schoolers), Beaufort took Rhonda up to her new office. It was a small room that overlooked the bus circle and parking lot from the second floor of the original portion of the building. Despite its bland appearance and small size, Rhonda couldn't help but smile. It wasn't much to look at, but it was _hers_.

"So, what do you think? Looking forward to this or did we scare you off?" Beaufort asked. He sat in a chair off to the side and motioned for her to sit in the one behind the desk.

"Well, you can't really tell if it's going to be a good fit from the first day, but I'm excited. I've been looking for a new challenge. Something different."

"It's certainly a challenge and it definitely different. There is no other form of policing that's like this. You'll get some more relevant training when they send you to the SRO certification school. But you need to remember what your role is here."

"And what do you perceive that role to be? If you don't mind my asking."

Beaufort leaned closer to her. "Your job here isn't to arrest kids. Yeah, there will be times when you have no choice but to do that, but that's incidental. Your job is to intervene before their behaviors reach the level of criminality. To educate them on the laws, the consequences, and their rights. Because God knows that's not part of the curriculum. And in some cases, you may have to be the caring parent that they don't have at home, because lots of them have shitty home lives. Parents that aren't involved in their lives at all, or that participate in criminal activity, that are abusive or neglectful. You're a liaison between teachers, counselors, administrators, parents, and other agencies like Social Services and Child Protective." His gaze bore into her deeply and she had to admit she was slightly intimidated. She had never seen him so serious; he was known throughout the agency as a lighthearted man. "And most importantly, you're the one that has to save them if the worst comes to pass."

Rhonda gulped. "You mean like an active shooter."

Beaufort nodded. "Rhonda, do you know the SRO's job in an active shooter?"

"Same as any cop. To engage and eliminate the threat."

Beaufort shook his head. "No, that's the ideal scenario. And that may be the goal of someone that has backup that's closer. But if the state patrol isn't at that barracks around the corner, and they rarely are, you could be waiting up to 15 minutes for backup. Active shooters are usually done in five minutes. Your job is to make sure they don't get to spend that five minutes murdering innocent people. You're a speedbump, Lloyd. You're a delaying action. Your survival is not the goal. Wasting the shooters' time is. If you can't handle that, you need to get out now. Because I will not allow you take over protecting these kids, _my_ kids, if you can't do that for them."

Rhonda swallowed hard. _This guy is dead serious._ She took only moment before responding. "I understand. I won't let you or them down. I promise."

Beaufort studied her face for a moment before smiling. "Good." The school radio crackled before the conversation could continue.

"Office to Don."

Beaufort plucked the radio from his belt. "This is Don."

"Don, can you come down to the gym for a second? The gym teachers say they're having issues with a student."

Beaufort sighed. "On my way." He put the radio back on his belt. "Can't even have a quiet last day."

The two deputies made their way downstairs and met the assistant principal outside the gym doors. "Everything alright, Gary?"

The administrator shrugged. "Same old nonsense. Two girls yelling at each other over a boy. They were pushing each other so we thought it'd be good for you to be there."

Beaufort shook his head. "Sadie and Tanya again?"

"Yup."

Beaufort opened the doors and entered the gym only to jump at the sight that greeted him. The entire student body was assembled in the gym with a large sign that said, "Thank you, Deputy Don." The students let up a cheer and began clapping. He turned to Rhonda with a frown on his face. "This is what you have to look forward to, Lloyd. Ambushes."

Rhonda smiled and began clapping with the students. She also took note of tear he wiped from his cheek before he turned back around and walked into the crowd.

* * *

 **1843**

Nadine handed the soda to Rhonda as she sat down next to her. "The whole school was there?"

Rhonda nodded. They were at Helga's usual table, but she and Arnold were both working. Instead, it was just Rhonda and Nadine tonight. Their first time spending an evening together since Christmas. Rhonda had decided to dress down and was wearing a hoodie and a pair of jeans. It was an outfit that had certainly caught Nadine by surprise when she had arrived. Though initially awkward, the two had finally relaxed and began to talk like the old friends they really were. "Yeah, it was pretty great. He tried to play it off like a tough guy, but he couldn't quite hide the tears. It was touching." Rhonda plucked the menu from the stand on the table. "It was a good day. But I'm still craving something bad for me."

"Loaded cheese fries," Nadine said without hesitation. "They're the best."

Rhonda put the menu back. "Sold. Food's on me tonight." She handed Nadine some cash.

"I appreciate your generosity," Nadine said sarcastically with a smirk. She walked away to place the food order at the bar, leaving Rhonda alone for the moment.

Rhonda jumped as an arm draped across her shoulders. "Hello beautiful," a voice said from her left.

She instinctively thrust her elbow at the voice, coming in contact with a stomach that was clearly clenched in anticipation of the blow. "Get away from me, you freak."

"Aww, now don't be like that, my sweet," Curly said as he slid into the seat across from her. His smile was large and bordering on disturbing.

"What are you doing here, Curly?" Rhonda said as she crossed her arms. "This isn't your usual haunt."

The short man shrugged. "I thought I would change it up a bit. Stop pretending you're not glad to see me."

"Happy is probably the last word I'd use. And you're sitting in Nadine's seat."

Curly looked over his shoulder. "Is she here? I thought you two didn't speak."

Rhonda held a steady glare. "We do now. You may go." Curly's smile never wavered. _He really is nuts,_ she thought.

"Well, the more the merrier."

Rhonda dropped her arms and leaned close. "Curly, I'm only going to say this once. Leave. Me. Alone."

Curly stood but kept his grin. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon, my dove."

Curly slid back through the crowd toward the bar, bumping into Nadine on his way. Nadine watched him go without exchanging words. "Was that Thaddeus?" she asked as she sat back down.

"Sadly," Rhonda muttered.

"What was he doing here?"

"Hitting on me. In the most revolting way possible." She shuddered. "He's such a creeper."

Nadine frowned. "Go easy on him. You know his cousin just OD'd."

Rhonda froze with her glass halfway to her lips. "Say what?"

"Yeah, you didn't know? His cousin just died from a heroin overdose. They hit her with Narcan but it didn't work. It was part of that tainted batch that went around the county a few weeks ago. I'm surprised you hadn't heard about it."

"I knew about the deaths. I just didn't know one of them was related to a deputy. Why didn't anyone say so?" She tried to spot Curly through the crowd but failed. "Now I feel bad. I never gave him my condolences and instead I was just plain rude."

Nadine shrugged. "I guess you'll have to tell him next time you see him. I'm sure he won't hold it against you. He's crazy, but he's not stupid. He probably realizes you didn't know."

Rhonda took another sip of her soda. _I hope so,_ she thought. _I really do._

 **A/N: I could't sleep so you get a chapter. Sorry this one is mostly just information, but I felt it was necessary to outline what a School Resource Officer (SRO) is actually there for as opposed to what people THINK they're there for. We'll be touching base with Rhonda from time to time at the school from this point forward, but the story will still primarily be Helga and Arnold's. I also thought we needed another way to get Sam back into the story.**

 **Guest: If Curly pulled his weapon, he'd be guilty of menacing. Probably every cop in that room would draw down on him, he'd be arrested, and he would definitely lose his badge. Curly is crazy, but not THAT crazy.**

 **Timewarp: Curly is certainly wrong, but as we're coming to see, he has reasons.**

 **Nep2uune: Curly definitely would have won. Curly is a lunatic. Fighting a lunatic is always tough.**


	76. Chapter 75 - Moral Courage

**Moral Courage**

 **February 14, 1005**

"One zero seven is on."

"One zero seven, patrol to the intersection of State routes 75R and 91 for a property damage accident involving a state plow and a county plow. No injuries reported."

Arnold sighed. _Yeah, this isn't going to be a mess…_ "Received, en route." He could have gone home. He _should_ have. He had already left the office from his midnight shift and was halfway home when they called and asked him to come back to work a half shift in the snow storm. And like the selfless dope he was, he agreed, because the guys on the road could use the help. The office had already had thirty calls in the past three hours and there just weren't enough officers on the roads to cover all of the accidents, disabled vehicles, fallen trees, and downed power lines. Half the county had lost power. It was the worst snow storm in years, and for some reason everyone and their mother had decided to drive in this mess.

It took him almost ten minutes to reach the scene and when he arrived he noticed one very important detail: there was only one truck.

"One zero seven, out at last." He pulled into the parking lot the huge county truck was parked in. There were two county highway supervisor trucks parked there as well. The plow driver dismounted from his vehicle and walked up to him.

"What's going on?" Arnold asked.

"That idiot from state wasn't paying attention to what he was doing and smoked my plow." The driver was furious, that much was plain. He explained how he was driving on the highway to get to his next plow route. The state plow was turning around in a parking lot. According to the county driver, the state plow never lowered his wing plow to check traffic or even stopped before pulling back into the highway. Right into the county vehicle.

"He hit me so damn hard he pushed my wing into the guide rail on the other side of the road."

"Okay, well, where is he? I want to get his side of the story."

One of the supervisors spoke up. "He left."

Arnold looked at him. "He left. Just, up and drove off?"

The supervisor nodded. "He was parked across the street when I got here but he took off a minute later."

"Did he give anyone his name or a truck number? Have you been contacted by a state supervisor?"

The county worker shook his head. "Nope. I recognized him. He caused an accident a few weeks ago with one of our guys, but I don't know his name and he never gave us anything."

"Well that's fleeing the scene of a property damage accident, so he's going to get a ticket for it," Arnold said. That seemed to make the county workers happy. He quickly completed what he could of the accident report and sent the workers on their way. Then he called communications and requested that they contact the state Department of Transportation office to get the driver to come back to the scene for an accident report. A state supervisor arrived shortly after and Arnold told him that he intended to ticket the driver. The supervisor offered no argument and said he understood. It took almost a half hour for the driver to finally arrive, but Arnold completed his accident report, presented the ticket, and all parties went on their way.

* * *

 **1532**

"Deputy Shortman, a word in my office please."

"Uh, yes Captain," Arnold replied. He followed the Captain down the hallway.

"Close the door, please," Wartz directed as Arnold entered.

 _That's not a good sign_ , Arnold thought. "Is something wrong sir?"

Wartz let out sigh. "Deputy, let me start by saying this is not coming from me. It comes from over my head, so please keep that in mind."

"Yes sir."

"It's my understanding that you issued a ticket to a state plow operator this afternoon."

"That's correct, sir."

"Would you mind explaining the incident to me?"

Arnold provided a brief description of the incident. Wartz listened intently, only asking questions when he required clarification. After Arnold finished, Wartz folded his hands over one another and looked down at his desk.

"Deputy, the Undersheriff received a phone call from a County Highway supervisor stating that they had an understanding with State in regard to the incident. He wanted to know why we issued a ticket in light of that understanding. Were you aware of any such arrangement?"

Arnold blinked. "No, sir. No one at the scene said anything to me about that."

"Deputy, are you aware that, just like when you're operating your patrol car, plow drivers are exempt from liability during plow operations?"

"No, sir, I was not aware, but I'm not sure that would apply in this case."

"How do you figure?"

"Well, I wouldn't be exempt from liability if I were doing a hundred miles an hour through a red light, sirens or not. This driver never checked the roadway and failed to yield the right of way to a vehicle already traveling in the highway. That's negligence, recklessness, or both, and that's not, to my knowledge, exempt from liability."

"Well, that's not the way it's being viewed. We're going to be voiding your ticket, and you will amend your accident report to reflect no fault to either party and remove any mention of the state operator leaving the scene of the accident."

Arnold's jaw clenched as he ground his teeth. _This is insane._ "If that's your order, sir."

"It is, Deputy. I was also directed to inform you that issuing that ticket and pulling that driver off his route in the middle of a snow emergency were over zealous and showed poor judgement."

The grinding got worse. _Okay,_ now _I'm mad._ "Is there anything else, sir?" Arnold asked through clenched teeth.

"Yes." Wartz met Arnold's gaze. "I'm sorry. You're dismissed." Arnold stood and strode out the door, all the way back to the road room. Gerald and several other deputies were gathered there working on reports from the messy day.

"Whoa man, what happened to you? You look like someone kicked your puppy," Gerald said.

"I don't want to talk about it," Arnold growled.

"C'mon man, you don't get mad like this. What happ-"

"I _said_ I don't want to talk about it, Gerald!" Arnold yelled. The room fell silent and everyone looked at Arnold.

"Ahem." Arnold turned to see Helga standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and a scowl on her face. "Shortman, Johannssen. Sergeant's office. Right now."

Arnold sighed angrily and marched past Helga toward the office. Gerald shrugged and followed. After the two deputies had entered the office, Helga followed and shut the door. Arnold was already pacing while Gerald sat on a desk. Helga calmly walked to her desk and sat in her chair. She crossed her legs and put her arms behind her head as she leaned back. "Now then, what the fuck was that about?"

"I just got jammed up for doing my God damned job, that's what!" Arnold yelled, throwing his hands up in the air. He continued to pace. "I wrote a ticket to some state plow guy because he caused a fucking accident. And if he had hit a Prius instead of a fifty-thousand-pound plow truck, he could have killed someone. Yet here I am, getting dragged into the Captain's office, because I had the _audacity_ to actually write the guy a ticket. Well you know what? I'm not gonna apologize for that. Fuck no. He deserved worse, but I let him off easy." Arnold started muttering under his breath.

Helga turned to Gerald. "Am I this sexy when I'm mad? If so, I must be hot as fuck, like, all the time."

Gerald barked a laugh and Arnold stopped in his tracks. Helga have him a wry smile.

Arnold finally sighed, the anger running out of him. "Sorry, I just get so frustrated with the office politics sometimes. They'll suspend guys for forgetting to take their breath test operator recertification but they're totally okay with guys stretching probable cause as long as they get drug arrests. I'm not okay with that. There's a distinct lack of moral courage in our leadership. No one wants to do what's right, only what's politically expedient."

"I heard you pulled the guy off his route to do the report. Is that true?" Helga asked.

Arnold averted his gaze to the wall. "Uh, yeah, it is. I probably shouldn't have done that, huh?"

Helga shrugged. "Probably not. The public good is probably better served by him staying on his plow route. You could have finished the report and issued your ticket in a day or two instead."

Arnold sighed. "Yeah, that was dumb." He turned back to Helga. "I'm not apologizing for the ticket though. Nobody will convince me that was wrong."

"Listen Football Head. The next time you have something like this, where a government employee did something, especially from an agency we have to work with, I want you to call me first." She leaned forward in her chair. "And then I want to you to issue your tickets or whatever else you have to do and put in your report that I told you to do it. Understood?"

Arnold smiled. "Whatever you say, Sarge."

"Good. And after that's done, I want you to get Geraldo over there so he can make sure the tale gets told to everyone else. Now get out of here and go home. You've been in that uniform for sixteen hours and you smell awful."

Arnold blushed and quickly walked out of the room. Gerald stood up and put a hand on Helga's shoulder. To his surprise, she ignored it.

"Make sure he doesn't lose that 'moral courage' of his," she said, using air quotes. "He's the soul of this department. He needs to keep the rest of us on the straight and narrow."

"Pataki, he may be our conscience, but I'm starting to think you're our heart." He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You're alright, for a raging bitch."

Helga laughed, finally brushing his hand off her shoulder. She looked up at him. "Get out of here Geraldo. This little moment we just had stays out your tales, capiche?"

"Only until you retire, Sarge." He winked at her before walking out of the office.

Helga smiled at the closed door. _Oh Lord. Those two are going to get me into a_ ton _of trouble._

* * *

 **February 15, 0922**

Arnold shuffled out of the bedroom and sat heavily on the couch next to Helga, who was heavily engaged in watching Netflix.

"Welcome back to the land of the living," she said, sipping on her tea.

"What time is it?" he asked as he yawned.

"Almost nine thirty."

Arnold frowned. "I only slept a few hours? Why is the sun out?"

Helga laughed. "In the AM, you chowderhead. It's Wednesday."

Arnold's confusion only deepened. "Wait, so I slept for like, over 12 hours?"

Helga reached over and mussed his already wild hair. "Yep. You needed it. 16 hours of working a snow storm will ruin anyone."

"But I still have to give you your Valentine's gift!" he said in horror. He stood up in a panic while Helga laughed.

"Arnold, we're cops. We _never_ get to celebrate holidays on the actual day."

Arnold ran back into his bedroom and threw open his closet door. He hurriedly grabbed the basket he had inside, filled with bath items skillfully arranged to hide a sheet of paper. He ran his hands through his hair, attempting to tame it but giving up as it quickly became obvious that such a thing was impossible. He walked confidently back into the other room. Helga raised an eyebrow at him as he reentered.

"You think because I wear a pink ribbon I'm down with a pink basket?" she asked.

Arnold grinned. "Am I wrong?"

Helga sighed. "No. I'm just disappointed that I'm that predictable." She smiled as she began to pluck out an array of bath items, even a new pink robe, but frowned when she found a sheet of paper underneath it all. "What's this?" she asked as she picked up the sheet.

Arnold wrung his hands nervously. "Well, I remember that time you told me your dad-" Helga glared at him and he cleared his throat. "Uh, well, _Bob_ never took you on a family vacation to anywhere you actually wanted to go, and how you always wanted to take one particular trip. So, I kinda booked one for you. For us."

"You're taking me to Disney World?"

Arnold looked distraught. "Is it lame? It's lame, isn't it. I'm sorry, I thought maybe you'd-" He was interrupted as Helga jumped on him and kissed him deeply, almost making him fall backward into the coffee table.

"I love it, you big doof. I've always wanted to go on Space Mountain!" She kissed him again before jumping down. "Now it's time for your gift. Sit on the couch and close your eyes."

Helga pushed him down onto the couch and ran into the kitchen. Arnold closed his eyes and chuckled nervously as he wondered what surprise she had in store for him. He jumped as something heavy landed in his lap. He opened his eyes and looked down at a three-pound Hershey bar. He laughed. "Just had to out-do me from last Valentine's, huh?"

"Maybe. I also got you a really cool Captain America print but it didn't make it in on time." She looked away shyly. Arnold put the candy bar down and stood. He turned her face back to him and kissed her gently on the lips.

"I would've been happy just with the candy bar," he said softly as he placed his forehead against hers.

"Good," she said. "Also, you're totally sharing that candy bar."

Arnold chuckled. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

 **A/N: I've been pretty busy of late and since a public school is essentially a germ warfare factory, I'm sick yet again. I'm assured that it takes 1-2 school years to build up a teacher's immune system. But since I'm too sick to even play video games tonight, I figured I'd finish up this chapter and get it out mostly on time.**

 **Nettie: We will have more of Rhonda, Sam, and the other students as time goes on. I decided to leave both story lines together instead of creating a separate one.**

 **Kryten: It's the best job I've ever had, to be honest. I agree about Curly. This won't be a Rhonda/Curly love story.**

 **Sara: I understand your concerns, but when introducing a branching story arc I felt it was necessary to flesh out Rhonda some before dumping her into a new environment. That's why I had considered making her story separate. But since I intend to still have them cross over with one another it's probably better for narrative clarity to keep them together for the time being. As for the romance on Christmas and New Year's, as Helga mentions here, cops don't really get holidays. We celebrate whatever we can, whenever we can. Hence why they don't actually get to do their Valentine's on the actual day here. Cops miss lots of holidays, birthdays, school plays, sporting events, etc. Next time you see a cop on the road, ask yourself if he's missing his kid's dance recital or his anniversary. Because it's always possible he or she is missing some important milestone in life to be out there.**


	77. Chapter 76 - Personnel Complaint

**Personnel Complaint**

 **March 2, 1922**

"911 to one zero seven."

"One zero seven, go ahead."

"One zero seven, respond to the Purcelli Indoor Creations parking lot. Verbal domestic in progress. Caller reports that her boyfriend wouldn't allow her and her child out of the vehicle and threatened them with a firearm. Boyfriend did pull over and allow them out but is now following them as they walk down the road, verbally harassing them."

"One zero seven en route."

"Mercyside Unit Three to one zero seven, what's your location?"

"Route 7 and Caldwell."

"Roger that. We're closer. We'll respond in and secure until you get there."

Arnold weaved through traffic as he closed on the incident location. He spied the two Mercyside officers holding their hands in front of them and talking to an obviously agitated man that was stalking back and forth. A woman and a young boy waited by their patrol vehicle.

"One zero seven, out at last." Arnold threw the car in park and exited. Before he could address the woman, the man began yelling at him.

"You're finally here. Arrest her, please!"

Arnold looked over at the man in confusion. "It's my understanding that _she_ called 911, not you."

"Of course I didn't. I was _driving_. She was threatening to jump out of the car. She's crazy and needs to go the hospital."

"So, am I arresting her or sending her to the hospital?" Before the man could answer Arnold held up a hand. "Think about that one while I talk to her. And don't interrupt me."

The man started to say something and approach but was directed away by the other officers. Arnold shook his head as he walked up to the woman. "I assume you're the one that called 911?"

The woman nodded. "He's going crazy. He got fired last week and he's been taking everything out on me and Kenny. This time he started yelling at me for cheating on him because I got a text message while we were heading home from his dad's birthday. And the message was from his dad. I offered to show him the message, but he just started screaming, so I asked him to pull over. Then he pulled his pistol out from under the seat and started waving it around, saying he was gonna kill whoever was texting me and that I was a cheating bitch." Tears began running down the woman's face. "He finally stopped and screamed at us to get out, so we did. He took off so I started calling a friend to come pick us up, but he turned around and came into the lot, rolled down the window, and started screaming at us again so I called 911."

"Did he make any threats of violence toward you?"

The woman shook her head. "No, just toward this imaginary boyfriend."

"Did you feel threatened when he waved the gun around?"

She shook her head again. "No. He would never hurt us. But I'm so worried about his mental state. I just…" She trailed off for a moment and looked at the ground. "I just want to go to my mom's tonight and not think about this for a while."

"Alright. I can give you a ride back home to get your things, but how will you get to your mother's?"

"I have my own car there."

Arnold nodded. "Wait here." He walked back to where the Mercyside officers waited with man. Arnold was about to address him when he pushed past the two officers.

"I told you, she's nuts. She needs help. She needs to go the hospital." The man got within inches of Arnold's face. Arnold put a hand up to stop him and bladed his right hip away from the man. The two Mercyside officers began to approach.

"Back up. Now," Arnold said sternly.

"But-"

"I don't know what you think this is, but during a police investigation you do NOT approach an officer."

"It's not like I was going to attack you or anything," the man replied indignantly.

"I don't really care what your intent was. I can't read your mind. For your safety and mine, stand back and keep your hands where I can see them. Understand?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't going to _do_ anything."

Arnold growled softly. _This guy is an idiot_. "Just… tell me your side of this story."

"She's a crazy bitch. She tried to grab the wheel, she threatened to kill me, she tried to jump out of the car. The kid isn't safe with her. She needs to be arrested for child endangerment."

"Is that before or after I bring her to the hospital?" Arnold asked in frustration.

"I don't know. You're the cop, you figure it out." The man smirked as if he had made a point.

Arnold pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eye shut. "Where's your gun?"

"In the car. Where else would it be?"

Arnold looked the man square in the eyes. "You know, for a guy who wants me to help him, you're being remarkably rude."

"What? I'm not being rude. She's just a bitch."

"Okay, here's what's going to happen. I'm taking her back to your house to get her car and her personal effects. Then she's leaving for the night. What you two do after tonight is up to you."

The man's face became flushed. "She is _not_ going into my house without me!" he yelled.

"Then you can follow us there. But she has a right to her property."

"She has no right to go in there! Her name isn't on the mortgage!"

"She receives mail there?"

"Well… yeah."

"Then she has a right to go in there until you officially evict her. So, we're going. You can come or not. I don't really care."

"She can't get in anyway. I have the key."

Arnold shrugged. "She still lives there, so she can break a window if she needs to. If you want to protect your windows, you should probably let us in."

The man spluttered for a moment before saying "Well, I left the key at my dad's place."

"Call him. We're leaving in 10 minutes." Arnold turned and walked back to his patrol car, followed by the Mercyside officers. When they returned to the car, Arnold turned to them. "Did he say anything to either of you?"

The Mercyside sergeant shrugged. "Same nonsense. He can't decide on a story, can't decide on what he wants. We took the gun when we got here. It's in our patrol car."

Arnold sighed. "I should probably hold on to that until we're done with this whole thing." They returned to the Mercyside car and Arnold removed and checked the firearm. As he walked back to his own patrol, he addressed the man. "Is your dad on his way?"

The man crossed his arms and smirked. "I haven't called him yet."

Arnold froze in his tracks. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not calling him to let that whore back in _my_ house."

"That's it!" Arnold yelled, catching everyone by surprise. He pointed at the woman and her child. "You two, get in the car. We're leaving." He looked back at the man. "Get in your fucking car and meet us at your house."

"But, the key-"

"Is on your key ring. I'm not stupid. Now move it or she's breaking your windows to get in."

The man huffed for a moment, but Arnold ignored him. He tossed the unloaded handgun in the trunk and left the man scrambling into his own car as the two Mercyside officers laughed.

* * *

 **2013**

Though the man had been unhappy and had insisted on following them through the house at every turn, he hadn't interfered with the gathering of clothes and toiletries. Arnold watched as the woman pulled out of the driveway. The man stood on the porch, glaring as first her car and then Arnold's left the driveway. He was 10 minutes into his drive back to his patrol zone when the radio crackled.

"911 to any unit in the area of 276 Crenshaw Parkway, third party report of an intoxicated operator. Female subject, reported operating a white KIA sedan bearing registration Tom Ida King one zero zero seven. Caller states the subject left his residence approximately ten minutes ago and is en route to that location with a child in the vehicle."

Arnold ground his teeth. _That's the car that just left that idiot's house,_ he thought.

"Mercyside Three, 911."

"911 is on."

"We're in the area. Believe we're out with that vehicle."

Arnold picked up the microphone. "One zero seven en route to assist." He turned around and sped back into town, arriving at the stopped vehicle a few minutes later. The same Mercyside officers he had seen before were out with the woman from the domestic incident. The sergeant approached him.

"Looks like our friend is pretty pissed about her leaving."

"Looks like," Arnold said. "Complete waste of our time."

The sergeant shrugged. "I'll have junior run her through field sobriety for practice. We know it's bullshit. You gonna go after this guy for falsely reporting?"

Arnold nodded. "I'm going to try. Gotta run it by the boss first."

"Good luck with that. We're all secure here. We'll do our thing and cut her loose in a few minutes."

Arnold turned and returned to his car, shaking his head.

* * *

 **2234**

Arnold and Helga sat in the squad room with several other deputies, tapping away at their keyboards when the phone rang.

"Squad room," Helga answered. As the dispatcher spoke, she raised an eyebrow. "A personnel complaint? For _Arnold?_ " All of the other deputies looked at the blond man, who groaned and shrank down in his chair. "No, no. It's fine. I'll go see what this guy has to say." She hung up the phone. "Something I need to know about, paste for brains?"

Arnold crossed his arms and huffed. "No," he said tersely.

Helga regarded him curiously for a moment before standing up and walking to the lobby. As she opened the door, she saw a man pacing nervously, rubbing his chin and muttering to himself. _This guy's a loon_ , she thought. "Can I help you, sir?" The man looked up, squinted for a moment, then approached her rapidly. She held up a hand. "That's close enough, thank you."

"Yeah, well, I want to complain about one of your deputies. He was a complete asshole to me today and I didn't appreciate it."

"What was the deputy's name?"

"Uh… uh… Shortround? Shortchange?"

"Shortman?"

"Yeah! That's the guy. He was a dick."

Helga crossed her arms. "And what, pray tell, did Deputy Shortman do to you today?"

"He threatened me violence is what he did! He told me he'd kick my ass, waved his gun at me, let my girlfriend drive drunk, broke into my house! What _didn't_ he do to me?!"

"That all sounds very serious. I suppose I should go review the camera footage from his car then. Would you care to come with me?"

"Uh, camera footage?"

"Of course. Every patrol car has a dash cam and a microphone. We can just review-"

"On second thought, maybe it's best to let it go."

"Oh? But I thought he threatened you and pointed a gun at-"

"Well I might have misconstrued some th-"

Helga angrily jabbed a finger in his face. "Well you won't misconstrue this, pal. Don't ever come in here to make a false allegation of official misconduct ever again. I don't take kindly to people trying to jam up my deputies for doing their jobs. And if you pissed off Deputy Shortman to the point that he lost his cool with you, then you must be the biggest asshole this side of Mars. He's the most patient cop in this agency, probably the county. So how about you fuck off before I drag you down a staircase by your head again."

The man's eyes grew wide in recognition. "You're-"

"Yeah, that's right, I remember you. I'm the one that you tried to push down the stairs last year. So, get out of here and stop wasting my time. Otherwise I'm arresting you for filing a false report for that bogus DWI you tried to pull tonight." She spun on her heel and went back through the secure door before he could answer. She walked back into the squad room and sat heavily in her chair before looking over at Arnold. "The gentleman has decided to reconsider his complaint. You're all set."

Arnold chuckled and shook his head as he returned to his work.

 **A/N: This was a real incident I was involved in. Absolutely infuriating. And yes, my sergeant did actually tell the guy to fuck off. He was known for running his mouth and making false allegations.**

 **Sorry for the delays. I've been rather busy lately at work with a considerable amount of overtime. And the kids at the school have been going stir crazy now that the weather is improving.**

 **Sara: I wasn't insulted. I was just explaining.**

 **Nep2uune: You can't issue a ticket to someone other than the suspect. It's a court summons, so it must be served personally to the person that must appear.**

 **HannaBanna: Thank you for the kind words.**

 **HipHopAnonymous: Sorry, just been very busy of late. I have a number of chapters finished already, but getting the time between them and the current chapter filled in is the issue.**


	78. Chapter 77 - Donut Disaster

**March 13, 0014**

 **0213**

As they pulled into truck stop parking lot, Arnold could see that the donut racks were empty. The employees must have changed out the previous days donuts.

"Uh oh Gerald. Looks like you're not going to be able to get your Boston Crème donuts tonight."

"First off, I've been really good about not eating junk on shift. It's been two months since I had a donut of _any_ kind. And second," Gerald looked at him and grinned. "I bet you twenty bucks I could get a donut in there if I asked."

Arnold laughed and shook his head. "Sure man, if you say so. I'm gonna go over to the Subway. You want something?"

"Nah, I'll just get some fruit snacks or something in the store."

Arnold went to the sandwich counter while Gerald wandered the gas station. He plucked a bag of strawberry fruit snacks off the rack and checked out with his water and gum before going back to wait with Arnold for his sandwich.

"There's my buddy!" the lady behind the counter said when she spotted Gerald.

Gerald smiled at her. "Hey Darlene. How are you tonight?"

"I have a present for you two!" she said. She quickly stepped in the back and came back out carrying four donut boxes and a small box of donut holes. Gerald's eyes got wide while Arnold started laughing. _I've been sooo good, and now she does this?_

Arnold looked at him. "Good thing I didn't take that bet. You didn't even _have_ to ask for the donuts."

Darlene smiled at both of them. "Well the state guys got them yesterday so today it was your turn. I was going to drop them off at your station when my shift ended but since you're here, you can take them with you. How many of you are there? Is this going to be enough?"

"Uh, yeah, it's just the two of us at the substation tonight and two more in the morning. So, this is plenty."

"Well you two enjoy!"

They both thanked her as Arnold paid for his sandwich. Gerald hefted the enormous stack of donuts while Arnold removed his phone from his pocket.

"Man, what are you doing?"

"A cop carrying four dozen donuts? You better believe I'm taking a picture of that."

"Knock it off and get the door."

"Not 'til I get the picture."

Gerald rolled his eyes and pushed the door open with his foot. "This shit ain't funny." He walked to the back of the SUV and waited for Arnold to open the hatch. Arnold instead followed him with the phone out. "Arnold, open the car."

"Almost done," he said while sticking his tongue out. He was clearly lining up his shot.

"Dammit, open the fucking car, you loser."

"Ah, there it is!" Arnold grinned as he finally unlocked the car. Gerald rearranged their bags so he could set the boxes in securely with the box of donut holes on top.

"Not funny, dude. Not funny."

"Oh no, it's _very_ funny. I'm Snap chatting the crap outta this one. It's gonna be on your retirement reel, my friend."

Gerald huffed. "Just get in the fuckin' car so we can get this shit back to the station, alright?"

Arnold chuckled as he sent his Snapchat. The two of them drove away from the truck stop and jumped on the Elk Island Parkway to head back to the substation.

"So, I was thinking maybe you, me, Phoebe, and Helga could go out to Chez Paris for dinner next weekend."

Gerald was playing with his phone, trying to beat his high score at some game or another. They were all the same to him, mindless ways of passing the time. He shrugged. "Sure man, whatever you want. I'll be free and I'm sure Pheebs will be too."

"Awesome. It'll be nice to go out to a good din- oh shit!"

Gerald looked up in a panic just in time to see a very large deer stop in the road and look directly at him. _Sorry buddy, looks like your number's up,_ he thought. Arnold slammed on the brakes but there was no stopping in time. The car struck the deer dead center, launching up and clear over the light bar on the roof. The hood crumpled and Gerald winced. _I really hope that didn't just take out the radiator or we're in deep shit._ The car finally came to a stop with Arnold's knuckles still white as he gripped the steering wheel tightly.

They both sat there for a moment as they came down from the adrenaline high, staring at the dark, empty road ahead of them.

"Arnold?" Gerald asked.

"Yes Gerald?"

"Did you… did you hear a weird noise behind us when we hit that deer? Like, a splatting noise?"

"I was a little distracted, Gerald."

Gerald turned around to look in the back of the car and groaned. Splattered all over the cage behind him were jelly donut holes. "This is a mess…" he muttered. He opened his door and got out of the car. "I'm gonna go see if that deer is dead and get it out of the road. You wanna call the sergeant for an accident report?"

Arnold gulped. "Uh, not really. You know who the sergeant is tonight?"

Gerald didn't have to look at him. He sighed. "Helga G. Pataki."

"Yup. She's gonna be a little pissed about this one."

Gerald looked back down the road behind them. "Nothing we can do now."

* * *

Helga saw the emergency lights up ahead of her. _This is why Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb shouldn't be allowed to partner together._ As she pulled up, she noticed the tailgate was open. She slowed and pulled up behind the car. Arnold and Gerald were sitting in the open rear hatch, each with a box of donuts in their laps. Helga got out of the car and marched over to them.

"What are you two morons doing?"

Arnold shrugged. "We were hungry?"

"What the _hell_ are you doing with your own individual boxes of donuts?"

Gerald reached into the back of the car and pulled out another box. "We got one for you too, Sarge." He grinned.

Helga rolled her eyes. "Keep it geek-bait. Is the car good enough to drive?"

"We think so," Arnold said. "The radiator looks okay."

Helga left the two deputies with their donuts and checked out the car. Arnold appeared to be right, the damage was mostly to the hood and grill, but not deep enough to damage the radiator. She quickly examined the car and started back when she saw what appeared to be spots on the prisoner cage, illuminated by her headlights. She opened the door to the back seat and examined the cage.

"Okay, what in the ever-loving crap is all over your cage?"

"Uh, those would be donut holes…" Gerald said.

Helga closed the door and returned to the rear of the car. She crossed her arms and glared at the two sheepish deputies. "What's the deal with the donuts?"

"They were free…" Arnold said, looking down and avoiding eye contact.

"Darlene gave them to us. To share with everyone," Gerald added.

Helga raised an eyebrow. "You're on a first name basis with the donut lady?"

Gerald returned her glare. "Aren't you?"

Helga dropped her head and scratched her forehead. _I'm supervising children with guns._ She looked back at Arnold and Gerald and released an exasperated sigh. "Just get the car back to the office. Clean up the mess in the back and get another car. I'll get the accident report done."

"You're not mad?" Gerald asked.

"Furious. But deer are as thick as roaches out here. Nothing you can do." She started back to her car and called over her shoulder. "But you'd better believe that pictures of you two eating those donuts will be up all over the road room as punishment."

"When did you take pictures? You didn't even take out your phone!" Gerald called. Arnold simply laughed.

"Dash cam, bucko. Time for screenshots. Now get lost, before I lose my temper and decide to _actually_ punish you." With that she closed the door and ended the debate.

"Man, I think I'm gonna be sick," Gerald said.

Arnold looked at him curiously. "We're not in _that_ much trouble. I expected her to be much angrier."

"Nah man, not that. I ate too many donuts."

Arnold chuckled. "Nice one, Gerald."

 **A/N: This one was already written, so I hope you enjoyed.**

 **We do have a donut lady that gives us the day-old donuts for free before they throw them away. And I've launched a deer up over my light bar before. In about 3 ½ years on the job I've hit two deer and had two run into the sides of my patrol car. There are so many deer in my jurisdiction I've seen a single deputy handle no fewer than 13 car vs deer accidents in an 8-hour shift. Anyone who works an evening or overnight shift will typically handle several each week.**

 **And yes, my partner did lock me out of the car while I was stuck with several dozen donuts in my arm. That picture exists, much to my chagrin.**

 **Kryten: Absolutely. And we probably deal with more idiots than most. Except maybe the Emergency Room.**

 **Guest: It doesn't make sense. You can't follow the logic path these people use because there isn't one. That's what makes them so infuriating. With most people I can figure out their motivations, even they're just plain wrong. But some people just don't make any sense at all.**


	79. Chapter 78 - Steely Phil

**Steely Phil**

 **March 17, 2341**

Arnold and Helga backed into one of their favorite hiding spots. At night, the car couldn't be seen by traffic coming from either direction until it was too late, and people were frequently speeding on that stretch. He had just put the car in park when his phone rang. He pulled it out and checked the caller ID. He frowned. _Mom never calls this late._

"Hey mom, is everything alright?"

"Arnold, you need to get to Hillwood General as soon as you can," Stella said hurriedly.

"What's wrong?"

"Grandpa had a heart attack, Arnold. He's in the hospital. You need to get there as soon as you can. He… might not have long."

"I'm on my way." Arnold hung up and turned to Helga. "Grandpa is in the hospital. I have to get back to the station and get my car."

Helga shook her head. "Just drive over there in this. I'll figure something out." Helga took her phone out and called Simmons while Arnold pulled out into the road and took off back toward the city.

* * *

 **2358**

Arnold ran into the emergency department, leaving Helga in the car to make arrangements to cover him for the rest of the shift.

"What room is Phil Shortman in?" he asked the charge nurse breathlessly.

She checked her computer. "Bay 14. Are you family?"

Arnold was already running toward the bay. "Yes!" he called over his shoulder. Arnold burst into the room. His parents and grandmother were already there. Grandpa lay motionless in the bed, hooked up to machines, his eyes closed. He looked lifeless already. Arnold's parents turned to him and his father walked over to him, wrapping him in a hug.

"I'm glad you made it, son," he said softly. There were tears on his cheeks.

"How is he?" Arnold asked, his voice wavering.

"He'll go any time, they say. He won't wake up. I think… I think he was waiting for you, Arnold."

Arnold's eyes began to tear as he slowly pulled away from Miles. Helga quietly entered the room behind him. Arnold walked over to the bed. He looked down at his grandfather, carefully studying his face. He was trying to memorize every wrinkle, every imperfection, as he recalled all of the times his grandfather had given him advice, every time he had laughed, every time he had angrily scowled while chasing Oskar around the boarding house, every time he had run panicked to the bathroom calling out warnings about the raspberries. He had been a father for much of Arnold's childhood. Now he was dying in a hospital bed, in a sterile, impersonal room, away from the boarding house he had loved and cared for.

Helga walked up next to him and looped her arm under his, laying her head on his shoulder. Arnold reached down and took his grandfather's hand in his own. He squeezed it gently. "I'm gonna miss you, grandpa," he whispered. Arnold swore he felt grandpa squeeze back a moment before the heart monitor flat lined.

He was gone.

 **March 18, 0034**

Helga stood in the waiting room with the boarders from the house, waiting for the family to finish with the hospital staff. Gertie, Miles, and Arnold were discussing arrangements for the body while Stella broke the news to the boarders. They all gathered together and grieved in their own ways, though most simply felt numb. Helga, for her part, had only met the man a handful of times, but he had always been generous and kind to her. She knew that his passing would be devasting to Arnold. She only hoped that she would be able to comfort him in some small way.

Stella walked up next to her and took Helga's hand in her own. "Thank you."

Helga looked at her, confused. "For what?" she asked.

Stella gave her a sad smile. "For everything you've done for Arnold. And for everything I know you'll do for him in the future. He's going to need you. He and Phil were very close. This will be very hard for him."

Helga nodded. "I'll do whatever he needs."

Stella rubbed Helga's hand. "I know." The two women stood in silence for a few moments before the door opened. Arnold walked into the waiting room. His eyes looked hollow, and he seemed listless.

"Helga, did you find someone to cover for me?" he asked. He was looking at the floor, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room.

"Yeah, Patty and Curly are bringing Rhonda over here to meet me. She'll cover the rest of the shift."

Arnold nodded. "Be sure to thank her for me."

Helga rubbed his back, even though he couldn't feel it through his vest. "I will. Do you want me to come over after work?"

Arnold shook his head. "No, go home and get some sleep. I'll see you in the afternoon when you get up."

Helga nodded. Her phone vibrated. "Rhonda is outside. I have to get back to work. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I will." Arnold finally looked at her. The sadness in his eyes nearly broke Helga's heart. "Thank you."

Helga pulled him into a hug and kissed his cheek. "I love you," she whispered.

He patted her back. "I love you too. Be safe tonight. Call me when you wake up, okay?"

She pulled back and smiled at him. "You got it, football head." She squeezed his hand before finally leaving the room.

"She's a special woman," Stella said.

Arnold allowed himself a small chuckle. "Yes, she is."

* * *

 **March 20, 0834**

They stood in the national cemetery waiting for the casket in a small gazebo. Gertie, Miles, Stella, and Mitzi sat in the front row, dressed in black. Arnold, Gerald, and Helga stood in the back in their dress uniforms, joined by Phoebe in a black dress. The boarders and dozens of others were seated, watching the proceedings with damp eyes. It had rained briefly on the way over, but the clouds were breaking up and the sun was beginning to shine through.

The hearse approached slowly as a detail of uniformed soldiers from the honor guard stood on the side of the road. The hearse pulled in front of the detail and stopped. The detail leader slowly saluted the vehicle as it pulled past. When the vehicle stopped, the driver exited and opened the rear door. The six other members of the detail smartly marched to the back of the hearse and carefully removed the flag-draped casket. They marched toward the burial plot while an additional detail of seven soldiers and a sergeant came to attention, the soldiers holding their rifles vertically in front of their bodies in salute.

The pall bearers laid the casket at the grave site and lifted the flag from the casket. The detail with the rifles came to attention. They fired three volleys before returning to attention. The pall bearers continued to hold the flag as a trumpet played Taps. Helga had held it together pretty well to that point, but for some reason, Taps at a funeral always got her. Tears streamed down her face as the one-minute long song continued. When it finished, the pall bearers crisply began folding the flag. It was inspected by a soldier at the end, then turned over to the sergeant in charge of the detail.

He walked the flag over to Gertie, who sat at the end of the row of chairs. The sergeant knelt in front of her and gently placed the flag in her lap.

"Ma'am," he said softly, speaking only to her. "This flag is presented on behalf of a grateful nation as an expression of our appreciation for the honorable and faithful service performed by your husband." He stood and saluted before making a smart turn and marching away. The attendees began to stand up and file past, each placing a flower on top of the casket. Arnold and his friends waited until everyone else had gone before he approached the coffin. He took a knee and placed his flower, his hand lingering on wood for a moment before he stood back up. Helga walked to his left side, carefully taking his left hand in her right. Gerald approached on his right and put a hand on Arnold's right shoulder. The three gazed thoughtfully at the simple headstone. It was a few feet tall, with a gently curved top and straight sides. It was engraved in a manner similar to the rest in the military graveyard.

 **PHILIP  
SHORTMAN  
CPL US ARMY  
AUG 23 1917  
MAR 17 2017  
105** **th** **ECB  
DSC**

It was simple. It wasted no words. But in its own way, it told a story. Arnold gazed thoughtfully at the bottom of the inscription.

"What's 'DSC' mean?" he asked no one in particular.

"Distinguished Service Cross," a gravelly voice answered from behind him. Arnold turned to see an ancient man in a wheelchair. "He earned it in the Bulge, the ol' coot."

Arnold looked at the man curiously. "Do I know you, sir?"

The man shook his head and dismissed the young man that was standing behind his chair. "I'll be along in a minute." The young man nodded and walked a short distance away to wait. The elderly fellow looked back at Arnold. "I'm sure you don't. And I'm afraid I don't know you, either, though if I had to guess you're a grandchild."

Arnold smiled slightly. "Good guess."

The old man wheezed a laugh. "The lights upstairs have dimmed, but they're not out yet." He engaged his electric wheel chair and moved closer to the trio standing at the grave. "Did your grandpa tell you what he did in the war?"

Arnold shrugged. "He said something about a truck load of bad meat and capturing a bunch of Germans. He showed me his little monument on the mall once. He said he single handedly won the Battle of the Bulge, but I know that's not true."

"He certainly did love to tell a story. Ol' Phil and I served in the 105th Engineer Battalion, 30th Infantry Division during the war. They sent our division to a place called Stoumont in Belgium. The Germans had broken through the front and this particularly nasty group from the 1st SS Panzer Division were charging ahead of everyone else. They murdered a bunch of prisoners at Malmedy, got stopped by a company of engineers at Trois Ponts, and then we hit them at Stoumont."

The man placed a flower of his own on the casket. "This group of Nazis held the town. The infantry boys pushed 'em back, but they held a bridge over a river that connected their supply line. Phil and I were part of the demolition team that had to go blow that bridge and cut them off. Without fuel, their tanks were worthless, and we could stop one of the two main thrusts through our lines." The man's eyes unfocused as he was taken back in time. "We got to the bridge, but the guy with the demolitions had fallen into the river. He lost the explosives, and in the dark it was all we could do to get him out of the water without being caught. Without the demolition charges there wasn't much we could do to the bridge. But Phil, he wasn't going to let our little excursion go for nothin'. He snuck back to the lines, commandeered a jeep, and drove that damn thing right to the bridge. Those Germans opened up on that jeep with a machine gun, and a stray bullet would've set the whole damn load off, but he drove it right up, kicked the explosives out, and took off the way he came. He kept driving around for ten minutes. Kept those krauts so distracted they never saw us setting the charges. They never even knew the rest of us were there until we blew up that damn bridge."

The old man sighed. "Without that bridge, they abandoned their tanks. Some of the biggest damn tanks I ever saw, too. Must've been fifty of them. The 1st SS got stopped by a crazy kid in a quarter ton jeep." He looked back at Arnold. "Your grandpa was a hero, alright. Maybe he didn't win the Bulge himself, but he did more than his part, and I'm alive today because of him, I have no doubt." The old man began struggling to stand up in his chair.

"Pop-" the young man began.

The old soldier waved at him dismissively. "I'm fine, I'm fine." After some struggle, the man gained his feet. He stood up as straight as his old body would allow him to and snapped his right hand to his brow in a salute. His hand wavered, his whole body shook, and sat back down heavily. "See ya when I see ya, Phil," he whispered. He looked back up to Arnold. "I hope you get to remember your grandpa as the hero he was."

Arnold smiled at the old man. "I appreciate the story, but my grandpa was my hero a long time ago."

 **A/N: The war story is made up, but the units involved did fight at Stoumont and the 30** **th** **Infantry did destroy the bridge there, forcing Kamprgruppe Peiper to abandon all of their heavy vehicles and walk out on foot. It stopped the northern drive to the Meuse River (I was a Military History Masters degree candidate before going to the police academy, so you'll have to forgive the nerding out). At least one of the abandoned tanks (a Tiger II) is on display at La Gleize, which is the furthest point that the northern pincer managed to reach. I'm fortunate enough to have actually seen this tank in person. I've been to two military funerals; one for my grandfather (Army Air Forces Air Traffic Controller, China-Burma-India Theater, WWII) and one for a Marine that had been missing at Tarawa for 70 years before finally being located, ID'd, and returned home. They're sadly beautiful affairs.**

 **In all honesty, I did not really include Phil and Gertie as characters mostly because I didn't trust myself to write them properly and do them justice. I assume the average reader here is completely familiar with them, and wrote this chapter working on that assumption.**

 **Kryten - The stereotype is true, but yes. Everyone loves donuts. Cops like food that's quick and easy because we never know how long we'll get to eat or if you'll even get the opportunity. There have been many days where I haven't eaten for 12 hours, except maybe a granola bar in my bag. Bagels, donuts, protein bars, and the like are all favored.**

 **Nettie - I hate deer. Absolutely abhor them. We have an overpopulation problem here, which has led to a huge tick population, which in turn has led to a serious problem with tick-borne diseases.**


	80. Chapter 79 - Pink Boy

**Pink Boy**

 **March 23, 2243**

"Sorry Geraldo, but you're stuck with him." Helga continued down the hall, refusing to make eye contact with the pleading Gerald.

"C'mon Pataki. No one wants to ride with him. He's a crazy person."

Helga shrugged as she entered her office. "Someone has to ride with him, and you're the junior guy on the shift. Nothing I can do about seniority."

Gerald groaned. "Man, this sucks."

The blond woman plopped down in her chair and smirked. "Everyone has had to ride with a partner they can't stand at some point. It's a rite of passage. Welcome to club, bucko." Gerald opened his mouth to complain but Helga held up a finger. "We're done. Go find your partner before he gets his arm stuck in the vending machine. Again."

Gerald's face fell. "For real?"

Helga nodded sadly, prompting Gerald to dejectedly walk down the hallway in search of Harold Berman.

* * *

Gerald plopped himself heavily in the driver's seat. He wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel and stared at the dashboard while he awaited his partner. It wasn't long before Harold roughly opened the passenger door and wedged himself in the passenger seat.

"Man, why'd they have to go get these crappy Explorers? The Tahoes had so much more room," Harold whined.

Gerald squeezed his eyes shut. He knew the actual answer to that question, but he was sure Harold was not really interested in the answer as much as he was complaining about it. Harold began roughly twisting the computer monitor and keyboard to make room for his not insignificant paunch. Gerald decided not to wait for him to finish and began pulling out of the motor pool.

"Hey Gerry, do me a favor and go to the Cumberland Farms, would ya? I need an iced tea."

"It's Gerald," he replied flatly.

"Right, Gerry."

Gerald groaned. "Which one do you want to go to?"

Harold shrugged as he pulled a candy bar out of his shirt pocket. "Doesn't matter. I get an iced tea from each one every night, so we'll hit the other two later."

"How can you drink that much iced tea in one night?"

Harold shrugged. "Dunno," he said between bites of his candy bar. "I'm always hungry."

As Gerald pulled out of the compound the radio buzzed. "Sheriff's office to Papa Sierra one three three, prepare to copy harassment complaint."

"Aw man! Now I can't get my iced tea!"

Gerald ground his teeth as he picked up the mic to respond.

* * *

 **2314**

Gerald pulled into the trailer park and located the caller's trailer. "Alright, let me do the talking," Harold said. He opened the door before Gerald had stopped the car. Gerald halted quickly and jumped out to catch up to his impatient partner.

Harold banged hard on the door. "Sheriff's Office!"

The door opened after a few sustained strikes from the large man. The complainant, a disheveled man in his 40s, answered the door. "Oh, hi."

"What's going on?" Harold asked unceremoniously.

"Well, my _former_ friend Pete has been sending me threats by text message."

"How do you know it's Pete?"

"Well, he talks like Pete."

"So it's not even coming from Pete's number?"

The man shifted uncomfortably. "Well, not the the number Pete used to use, no."

"Has this person ever identified themselves as Pete?"

"Uh, no."

"So you _assume_ it's Pete, but you actually have no idea who it is."

"I mean, I guess that's true."

"So you want me to track down some unknown person calling from an unidentified number because you think it might be this Pete guy. Is that right?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, can't you just go talk to Pete?"

"Sure. Where does Pete live?"

"I don't know."

Harold groaned. "What's Pete's last name?"

"Samson? I don't really know."

"Are you kidding me?"

The man was taken aback. "About what?"

"You don't know where this so-called 'friend' of yours lives, you don't know his last name, you don't know his phone number, and you don't know if these messages are even coming from him. So basically you want the two of us to drive around town all night calling for Pete over the loud speaker until he comes out the woods and surrenders himself for something he might not have done?"

"Well, when you put it like that, it seems kinda stupid. But I'm still getting the messages-"

"Block the number," Harold interrupted. "We're done here." He spun and began walking back to the patrol car, a stunned Gerald following a few seconds later.

Gerald got back into the driver's seat and looked over at his pink-faced friend, who was opening a bag of chips.

"What?" Harold asked brusquely without looking over.

"Nothing. Just that I've never seen anyone close an aggravated harassment complaint in less than five minutes before."

Harold waved a hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Now let's go get that iced tea, alright?"

Gerald shook his head. "Yeah, sure man. Whatever you say."

* * *

 **0127**

They had already visited two all-night gas stations for iced teas when Sid had called them asking for a backup unit. Sid and Patty were attempting to serve a felony warrant, and they had received a tip that the suspect was traveling to a house in the village of Carleton in a red Toyota Tacoma pickup. Sid's unit was posted at one end of the street, hidden in the dark parking lot of a long-abandoned service garage. Gerald was currently sitting in his own dark parking lot across from the third and thus far only unvisited Cumberland Farms while Harold slurped loudly on the remnants of his second iced tea.

"Hey, Gerry, can I borrow two bucks?"

Gerald frowned but kept his attention focused on the intersection they were assigned to watch. "What?"

"Two bucks. Can I borrow it? I need another iced tea."

"You literally just finished that one five seconds ago."

"Right. That's why I need another one. C'mon. I'll get you something too."

"Yeah, with my own money. We can go after we catch this idiot Sid is looking for."

"But that could take forever!"

"Will you quit complaining? I'm trying to focus."

"On what? There's not even any traffic. C'mon, let's just go in real quick. We'll be back before anyone shows up."

"No," Gerald said flatly, still watching the road.

"Well I say yes. And I'm the senior deputy in this car and on this shift, so we're doing it."

Gerald finally turned to him. "Are you seriously pulling seniority on me just to get a damn iced tea?"

Harold nodded. "And maybe some gum."

Gerald sighed. "No gum. You're getting the iced tea and that's it. Unbelievable."

Gerald shifted into drive and drove across the street to the other parking lot. He fished two dollars out of his wallet and handed it to Harold. "Hurry up. I don't want to miss this guy."

"Yeah, you got it Gerry," Harold said as he climbed out of the car.

"It's _Gerald_ ," he yelled back as the door slammed shut. He crossed his arms and huffed. Before he could begin muttering expletives under his breath, Sid's voice broke in over the radio.

"Target vehicle spotted. Attempting to stop."

Gerald began tapping his foot anxiously. He looked through the window of the shop and saw Harold filling his iced tea cup at a leisurely pace.

"Vehicle is stopping. Respond to our… wait, I think he's going to bail."

Gerald hit the air horn trying to get Harold's attention. The big man ignored him.

"One seven five, Sheriff's Office, foot pursuit, south on Grahm Avenue!"

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Gerald muttered. He got out of the car and ran to the door. "Harold, get your ass out here! Sid and Patty are chasing that guy!"

"Yeah, yeah. Hold your horses," Harold said as he stirred sugar into his iced tea.

"They're coming this way! Just leave the stupid cup and we can get it after!"

"Leave the iced tea? Are you nuts?"

Gerald heard foot steps coming down the street. He looked up and saw a man in a red hooded sweatshirt and black track pants run past and turn around the corner, followed closely by Sid and Patty. "Stop!" Sid shouted. "In the name of the law!"

"Are… you… serious?" Patty panted between breaths. The two rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.

"Oh shit, was that them?" Harold asked as exited the store. He stopped to take a sip from the straw.

Gerald covered his face with his hand and squeezed his eyes shut. _Don't say anything. Just get moving in the right direction._ "Can we go help them now?"

"Well duh. Why didn't say anything before?"

* * *

 **0453**

Gerald still couldn't believe how fast Harold could move when he wanted to. When they had finally caught up to Sid and Patty in the patrol car, Harold had jumped out and sprinted with unnatural speed to tackle and cuff their suspect. He received their thanks, likely because they never knew why he had been late to the party in the first place. Now he was dead asleep in the passenger seat and snoring loudly. _I guess a 50 yard dash is all he can manage with nothing but iced tea for fuel._

"Sheriff's Office to one three three, animal complaint."

"One three three," Gerald replied. Harold remained asleep.

"Respond to one four seven three County Route Twelve. Caller reports a possibly rabid raccoon under his trailer."

"Received, en route." The drive to the incident location was brief. He put the car in park and shook his partner. "Harold, wake up." Harold didn't move. "Harold, get up, we have a call." He shook him harder this time.

"Not yet mommy. Just a few more minutes," he mumbled.

"Fine, I'll do it myself." Gerald go out and walked up to the trailer. An old man with a long, gray beard and ratty, unkempt hair said in a chair on the small deck by the door. "Good evening, sir. Where is the animal?"

The man didn't speak and just pointed to the bottom of the trailer. Gerald sighed and pulled out his flashlight and shined it under the trailer. He located the animal quickly enough, as it was stumbling in circles, its fur missing in some places, particularly the tail. Gerald removed his pistol from the holster and got closer. "You don't mind if I shoot it under here, do you?" The old man simply shrugged. Gerald laid on his stomach and carefully lined up the shot, making sure nothing of importance was behind his target. He fired a shot that passed right through the animal's head. _Well, so much for testing that one for rabies._

"You're all set," he said as he stood up. "Just do me a favor, Bubba. Don't eat it, alright?"

The man frowned and nodded dejectedly. Gerald climbed back into the car and looked over at his partner. Harold was still fast asleep.

 **A/N: My apologies for my absence, but life has been busy of late. Hopefully the next chapter will take less time to finish.**

 **All three of these stories are true, though they didn't happen in the same night and they didn't happen to me personally. But they are gathered from coworkers. The first may be a bit of an exaggeration, as that particular deputy loves his "big fish" stories. The second is definitely real as it was shared by several deputies and was essentially the same. Though the money borrowed was for cigarettes and not sugary drinks. The last happened last summer to one of the other school deputies.**


	81. Chapter 80 - Trouble in Paradise

**Trouble in Paradise**

 **April 19, 2217**

"Yeah, but why is she staying with you and not your parents?" Arnold asked as they entered his apartment.

"She said she wanted to stay with me. Probably wants to do some 'sisterly bonding.' I'm not sure she realizes I _really_ don't want to do that." Helga sat down at the island in his kitchen and slumped her shoulders. She rubbed her temples, hoping to dispel the headache that was building. "I love her, but I'm not a fan of _living_ with her, even just a for a few days."

Arnold chuckled. "Hey, at least you have a sibling. I was an only child. I always wanted a sister."

Helga rested her arms on the counter and stared at him. "It's not all it's cracked up to be. I promise."

"Hey, I grew up in a house with a bunch of crazy tenants. In some ways it might better, but in others I'm sure it's worse. You've met Oskar."

"Football Head, can we not get into a discussion of who had it worse? My head is killing me."

"Fine, fine." Arnold opened the refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of water. "I almost forgot, tomorrow is my parent's anniversary. We're taking them to dinner, so wear something nice."

Helga groaned. "Criminy Arnold. I'm having dinner with Miriam and Olga tomorrow. You can't just drop that on me last minute."

"Why can't you have dinner with them another night? This is an important night for my parents, and they'd really like to have you there."

Helga crossed her arms and glared at him. "Olga leaves the day after tomorrow. You knew that. I would have had dinner with them tonight, had you remembered to tell me about this."

"It slipped my mind. Fine, I'll just go without you. They'll be disappointed."

Helga felt her anger rising. "I feel like you're making me out to be the bad guy here, and I don't deserve that."

Arnold was getting frustrated. "It's their anniversary. It's kind of a big deal and they want you to come. _I_ want you to come. I don't see why you can't just have lunch with your family and come to dinner with us."

"Because we _planned_ on dinner, Arnoldo. We have reservations. And not for nothing, but Olga isn't here all that often, especially without Little Bob. Not to mention it's a rare event that I even _want_ to spend an evening with my family, which for some reason I actually _do_."

"Fine. Go be with your family."

Helga was angry, but also confused. It was very unlike Arnold to be this unreasonable. "What's really going on here? You're not usually this much of an asshole."

Arnold stared at her. "Oh, I'm an asshole now?"

"Yup. You're sure acting like it. So, what's the deal?"

"I wanted to do something nice for my parents and you won't help me."

"I'm not stopping you, either. I just have plans already. With my _own_ family. Which you should know by now is a big deal by Helga standards. So, I'll ask again, why are you being such a dick about this?"

"You know what? I'm done with this conversation."

Helga stood up and placed her fists on her hips. "You know, for someone that's always accusing me of being closed off, you're doing a pretty good job of hiding your problems right now."

"You know what, you're right, it's not about mom and dad. And for someone that's always telling me how I need to do more for myself, you're being pretty damn selfish." Arnold knew that was a mistake the moment he said it. He could see the shock and hurt that it caused written all over Helga's face. "Helga-"

"Don't you _dare_ 'Helga' me, Arnold," she said as she fought back tears. "That wasn't fair, and you know it. So, you know what? Enjoy your fucking dinner with your parents. _Alone._ " Helga grabbed her keys off the counter and stormed out of the apartment before Arnold could say another word.

Arnold leaned heavily against the door frame. _What have I done?_ he thought.

* * *

 **2239**

Olga jumped when she heard the door slam against the wall and then shut again. A furious Helga stormed into the apartment with her phone in her hand. Olga could see the tears on her face.

"Baby sister, what's wrong?"

Helga started pacing in the living room in front of Olga. "That asshole Arnold had the audacity to accuse me to being selfish. Can you fucking believe that? Selfish! When it comes to him, I've done nothing but give and give and give. And he has the balls to say that to my face!" Helga's phone rang again. She looked at the screen and silenced it. "Fuck off, dammit!"

"Helga," Olga said.

Helga ignored her as the phone rang again. This time she answered it. "Leave me the fuck alone! I don't want to talk to you!" She hung up and threw the phone onto her bed through the open door.

"Helga," Olga said again.

"Does he have any idea how hurtful that is?" She started sobbing and yelling at the same time. "I've given him so much, and he says that to me? Fuck him. Fuck him!"

"Helga!"

"What, Olga?!"

Olga stood up and grabbed Helga by her shoulders. "You need to take a deep breath and stop getting so worked up. You're having a meltdown and you sound like me, of all people."

Helga stared at Olga for moment, then laughed. "I can't believe you just said that."

Olga shrugged. "I know I can be a drama queen. But I needed to get your attention and get you to calm down. Now sit on the couch, take a deep breath, and tell me what happened."

Helga did as her sister asked and explained the strange argument. "I don't know what his deal is. It's not like him at all."

Olga stared at the floor while she thought about what Helga had said. Her eyes widened. "Helga, today's the 19th."

"Yeah. So?"

"Helga, you got _shot_ on the 19th of April last year."

"Oh crap. I didn't even think about it."

"Maybe _he_ did. I bet it has something to do with it."

Helga folded her hands in her lap and looked down at them. "I should probably go over there and talk to him."

Olga nodded. "It might not be a bad idea."

Helga stood up and grabbed her keys off the table, then walked into her bed room and retrieved her phone. She walked back Olga and knelt in front of her. "Thank you," she said as she wrapped her arms around her sister. "Dinner's on me tomorrow."

Olga chuckled as she returned Helga's hug. "You're not cancelling on us?"

Helga released her and gave her a wry grin. "I'm not bailing on dinner with you guys just because Football Head is having a bad day. He still neglected to tell me about the anniversary, so I'm going to spend the evening with my favorite sister and my mom."

"I'm your only sister," Olga said flatly.

"Then you should only be worried if you're not my favorite," Helga replied with a wink.

Olga smiled and pushed her away. "Go. Make nice with your boyfriend. And if you need me when you get home, just wake me up, okay?"

"You got it. Thanks… sis."

Helga hurried out of the apartment before Olga's expected waterworks began.

* * *

 **2256**

Helga banged on the apartment door. "Open the door, dammit!" she yelled.

The door opened slowly with Arnold standing in the middle. He opened his mouth to speak but Helga placed a hand on the middle of his chest and shoved him back into the apartment. "Move."

Arnold stumbled backward and she stormed into the kitchen before turning on him. She cocked a hip out and crossed her arms, fixing a heated stare at her now sheepish boyfriend. "Before you say anything, Football Head, you need to know I'm still _very_ angry with you, and no matter what you say I'm not cancelling my plans with my family. I'll make it up to Stella and Miles in my own way and on my own time. Understood?"

"Ye-"

"I didn't say you could speak yet," she interrupted. Arnold was confused since she had asked him a question, but he stood silently, waiting for her to continue.

"What you said to me was unfair and hurtful, and I would have every right to make you sleep on the couch for it."

Arnold gave her an inquiring look. "Does that mean you're staying tonight?" he asked in genuine confusion.

"No, I'm going home. But you should still sleep on the couch tonight as penance, you fucking dope."

Arnold looked at the floor and nodded slowly. "That's fair."

"And you're going to take me out to a nice dinner to make up for it. And Gerald and Phoebe, because I'm feeling generous with your money and more than a little spiteful."

"Done."

"Now that we have that out of the way, seriously Arnold, what the fuck?"

Arnold leaned against the wall and ran a hand through his hair. "Helga, it's like you didn't even care that today was the anniversary of you getting shot. Or me having to kill someone, for that matter. You didn't mention it once, and I… I guess I should have just told you how I was feeling. I just felt like you forgot about everything we both went through."

Helga kept her arms crossed but looked down at the floor. "Arnold," she said without looking up. "I'm going to try to be totally open with you here, and I'm sure you know that's a _really_ hard thing for me to do, even with you."

She raised her head and met his gaze. "I _did_ forget what today was, but not because I don't care. It's because I made my peace with the whole thing years ago, before it even happened."

Arnold furrowed his brow in confusion. "How so?"

Helga let out a long sigh and now directed her gaze at the ceiling. "Look, when I started in this line of work, I was already a psychological mess of epic proportions. I had a shitty family, literally one friend, and not only no romantic interests but no interest in romance. It didn't take me long to figure out that this job, which I was hoping was going to fill some sort of hole in my being, was going to rob me of whatever soul I had left."

She finally dropped her arms and leaned back against the counter top. "I tried to find a way to make it better. I joined the Big Sister program, spent time with Sam, but it didn't help enough. When they put you with me, they said it was because I was getting reckless. The truth is, I was. I had gotten to the point where I didn't really care if I got myself killed. In a way, I almost _wanted_ it." She saw the distressed look on Arnold's face. "I wasn't suicidal or anything. I wasn't going to off myself. I just felt like if some ass hat on the street killed me, how bad would that be? This job is dangerous, and every day you go out there you might die. Most guys don't think about it because statistically it's pretty rare and until you have a near-death experience, it's sort of an intangible thing. But for me… for me the only thing I had to live for at the time was my nephew."

She turned her head toward the living room, but it was as though she were looking at something a long way off. "No one really loved me, except maybe Phoebe, in her own way, and that silly little boy. But of course, he didn't know any better. He still doesn't, thank God. I was miserable and bitchy, and I thought that maybe if I died in the line of duty, people would forget all the bad that was in me and just remember the good parts. If there were any. There wouldn't be any 'Helga the Harpy' stuff. Just my Officer Down Memorial Page, and maybe a plaque at the office or something. 'Helga G. Pataki, End of Watch,' and so on. So, when I got shot, it was kind of something I had foreseen. I expected it to happen. I think it was Tecumseh that said, 'Sing your death song and die like a hero going home.' I wanted that to be me, I guess."

She finally looked back at Arnold. "It's not that getting shot doesn't mean _any_ thing to me. It just kinda became a given. And honestly, I preferred getting shot or stabbed or beaten to death to a car accident. I wanted to die _doing_ something. Not standing on the side of the road writing a brake light ticket or something like poor Bill. Of course, when it finally happened, I had met your stupid ass. We had just had that big implosion over the taser thing, and even though I thought our friendship was over, I still wanted to be around for your career. Because despite the fact that you saved me, you're still a naïve, idealistic jackass that needs looking after."

She walked over to Arnold. "All that being said, I should have remembered how big a deal the whole thing was for _you_. And honestly, I might have never gotten close enough to you for us to fix things if it hadn't happened, painful as it was for both us." She looked down and took his hands in her own. "So, I'm… sorry."

Arnold raised an eyebrow at her. "Wait, how did me behaving like a jerk turn into _you_ apologizing to _me_? This is backwards." He lifted a hand and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "You have nothing to apologize for, Helga. I was an asshole back then when you told me how you felt, and I was an asshole tonight. I'm constantly reminding you that a relationship can't work if both parties don't communicate with one another and then I go and bottle things up and explode at you. You have _never_ said anything half as hurtful to me when you've lost your temper as I did tonight, and I really can't believe you're even speaking to me. I don't deserve it."

Helga smiled at him and pinched his cheek. "You put up with my neurotic self on a daily basis. I _guess_ I can forgive you one transgression. But don't let it become a habit."

Arnold placed his hands on her hips and pulled her in close for a hug before moving his hands up her back. Helga wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled him. "Thank you, Helga."

Helga pushed him back slightly and looked into his eyes before leaning in for a kiss. Arnold returned it and quickly deepened it. It began to fill with passion. Their hands began to wander on each other. Helga moaned softly before they finally broke for air.

Helga stared at him seriously. "I can't believe you're gonna make me fuck you right now."

Arnold gave her a surprised look. "Pardon?"

"Oh God, don't give me the oblivious bullshit," she said before leaning in to resume their kiss. She reached down and started undoing his belt while he began lifting her shirt over her head. He started guiding her toward the bedroom, but she stopped him. "No way, bucko. We're doing it right here."

"In the kitchen?"

Helga smirked at him. "Think of it as midnight snack," she said as she unbuttoned her own pants and kicked them off. "Your mouth got you into this mess, now it can get you out." She winked.

Arnold groaned before grabbing her hips and lifting her onto the island, eliciting a squeak of surprise from Helga. As Arnold began kissing her neck and working down to her collar bone and points beyond, Helga couldn't help but run her hands through his hair and wonder at how the man with the oddly shaped head could get her to go from furious to horny in a matter of minutes.

* * *

 **0003**

Helga held her keys tightly as she unlocked the apartment door, hoping she wasn't going to make enough noise to wake her sister. She quietly opened the door and locked it behind her. She tip-toed toward her table and carefully put her keys down.

"Baby sister?"

Helga jumped and knocked the keys off the table. "Fuck! Olga, are you trying to give me a heart attack? Why aren't you in the bedroom?"

Olga sat up from the couch and looked sleepily at her sister. "I figured you'd be coming home late and would want to sleep in tomorrow, so I took the couch." Olga regarded Helga carefully in the soft glow of a nightlight. "Make-up sex?"

Helga tensed and reached a hand up to her elbow. "N-no. We just, you know, argued it out."

Olga gave her a wry smile that Helga found unsettling. _This must be what Arnold feels like when I give him that knowing grin,_ she thought.

"Baby sister, I know sex hair when I see it. And your shirt is on inside-out. I'm glad you two figured it out. I knew you would."

Helga snorted and crossed her arms. "When did _you_ , of all people, become so perceptive? You're usually oblivious to this stuff."

Olga covered a yawn. "I grew up eventually. It just took me longer than you."

"Whatever. I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning."

Olga nodded and yawned again as Helga quickly stalked past her and closed herself in her room before collapsing on the bed in emotional exhaustion.

 **A/N: That quote is attributed to Tecumseh, but it's unclear exactly where it came from. It does appear to be a Native American quote, however.**

 **Kryten: I know I answered this by PM, but for everyone else's sake I'll answer here. Our county doesn't have animal control. If the animal appears to be rabid, sometimes Environment Conservation Police will come out and handle it so the remains can be sent for testing, but generally we destroy wild animals that are sick or injured. Almost every time our weapon is drawn is to put down an injured deer that got hit by a car.**

 **Guest: I imagine Harold as being a total train wreck that somehow manages to succeed just enough to not get fired, and sometimes even do something impressive.**

 **Guest (regarding your comment on Chapter 74): Most cops would prefer to focus on violent crimes and theft. But unless you're in a city, those crimes are less common than you might expect. As a result, much our self-initiated activity tends to intersect with narcotics. Personally, I don't care what you choose to put in your body, but the simple fact is that many people that abuse hard drugs also tend to commit both property crimes (especially theft to feed their habit) and violent crimes against other people (assaults by people who are high out of their minds or robberies, again to feed the habit). California found that marijuana legalization led to less tax revenue than the regulatory bureaucracy that they put in place to manage it. The reason? The taxes priced most customers out of the market, so they stuck with the dealers on the street corner. That's the balancing act for "vice" based economies that the states haven't figured out yet, at least as it pertains to drugs.**


	82. Chapter 81 - Dynamic Duo

**Dynamic Duo**

 **May 6**

 **2243**

Helga was seated at the substation computer when she heard the door open. "Hey Football Head, which would you prefer: Orlando or Miami-"Helga turned to the person who entered the door and stopped mid-sentence. "You're not Football Head," she grumbled as she crossed her arms.

Gerald shrugged. "You're quite astute. I can see why they gave you those stripes, Pataki." Gerald crossed his own arms and glared at the blond. "Arnold couldn't make it, so you're stuck with me tonight."

Helga raised an eyebrow. "He didn't say anything to _me_ about it."

Gerald shook his head. "I was with him while he was getting ready, but Stella called and said Gertie was going to the hospital. He asked me to cover the shift and let you know when I got here. So, you are now informed. I'm sure he'll text you when figures out what's going on."

Helga frowned. "Is she going to be alright?"

"I don't know. But she hasn't quite been the same since Phil passed."

Helga sat for a moment and was about to say something when the radio crackled. "911 to patrols in the area of Camp Victoria, respond for a verbal domestic in progress. No reported weapons. Campsite C87."

Helga sighed. "No rest for the weary, Geraldo." She keyed the radio. "Papa Sierra zero one zero en route."

* * *

 **2307**

Helga and Gerald found the campsite, but neither party would admit that a domestic occurred. The husband appeared to be sober, but his wife was heavily intoxicated and quite loud. Both claimed that the woman had gotten bad news by phone and was yelling at the person on the other line. It was obvious to both Helga and Gerald that they weren't being honest, but if the parties wouldn't cooperate, the only option was take their information and leave.

Helga removed her notebook and began taking down the woman's information. Gerald leaned on the railing of the porch and turned to look at the State patrol car that pulled up. While he was turned, the rather intoxicated woman began to rub his hand. Gerald stiffened while Helga's eyes widened, and she fought to suppress a smile.

"My kids are half black, you know," the woman said.

"Uh huh," Gerald replied uncomfortably.

"White people up here are real assholes. But I'm not a racist," the woman added.

Gerald was frozen in confusion.

"I… have no idea where that came from," the woman's husband muttered.

Helga was struggling mightily to maintain a professional demeanor. "Ma'am, I need you to pay attention to me right now, okay? Now could you please tell me your date of birth?"

The woman provided it and immediately turned back to Gerald, a drunken smile plastered on her face. "You heard what I said, right? That I'm not racist?"

Helga released a small snort and turned her head away from Gerald so that he couldn't see her smile. The husband brushed by his wife and entered the trailer. "I'm going to bed," he called over his shoulder.

"Don't worry about him," the woman said to Gerald.

Gerald looked to Helga for help and was dismayed to find her looking in the other direction, her shoulders bouncing as she laughed silently. "I, uh… I'm gonna go tell the State guy we're all good," Gerald declared.

"Oh honey, don't go- "

"Ma'am," Helga managed during chuckles. "I really need you to pay attention to me right now, so we can get out of your hair, okay?"

Helga managed to get the rest of the woman's information without incident and joined Gerald in the patrol car. She closed the door and called them clear, then sat in silence for a moment before sputtering into unrestrained laughter.

"Yeah, yeah, real fuckin' funny Pataki. I've never been hit on in a more awkward way in my life." Gerald tried to keep a scowl on his face, but a smile kept tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Helga finally regained her composure and wiped tears from her eyes. "I never thought I'd say this, but I am _so_ God damned happy Arnold bailed on me tonight."

* * *

 **0122**

Helga and Gerald were passing through Leland, a small village that was home to a disproportionate number of bars for its size. As they passed the one traffic light, the saw two State patrol cars parked at a closed gas station near the intersection. Helga flashed her emergency lights at them and continued down the road. The radio crackled a moment later.

"What's the matter, County? Don't want to join the party?" someone asked on the car to car frequency.

Gerald reached for the microphone, but Helga stopped him. "Don't answer them."

"Why not? Professional courtesy and all…"

Helga was about to explain but changed her mind. "So, you haven't met Grosse and Hoch, the Teutonic Titans? 'Cause that's who that is."

Gerald shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Okay, Geraldo. We'll go back. But get your phone out and keep the camera ready, because I can promise you they'll do something bananas."

Gerald gave her a confused look but did as he was told. Helga turned around in a driveway and started making her way back. Gerald squinted as they approached.

"Are their emergency lights on? And do I hear… music?"

Helga rolled down her window. Gerald definitely could hear music. As the lot came back into view, Gerald could see that both patrol cars had their emergency lights on while someone was twirling a spotlight erratically. The PA was pumping "Ice Ice Baby" and two rather short State officers were dancing wildly while waving their flashlights around. Another State officer stood to the side pointing his own flashlight, which was set on strobe mode, at the two dancing officers while he bobbed his head in time to the music.

"I hope you're recording, bucko. That's YouTube gold right there."

Gerald was snapped out of his trance and started recording the scene, but he still didn't quite believe it. "I take it the two short guys are the Titans?"

"Yup."

"What's the Tuetonic part about?"

"Their names are German."

Gerald turned to her, finally tearing himself away from the scene as Helga slowly drove by. "You speak German?"

Helga shook her head. "Not really. I took it for a year in college, but I don't really remember anything other than 'auf dem tisch,' and I have no idea why I even remember that."

"What does it mean?"

"'On the table.'"

Gerald grinned wickedly at her. "I bet you say that to Arnold all the time," he said as he wiggled his eyebrows.

Helga turned red and punched him repeatedly in the arm as she left the Staties to their impromptu rave.

* * *

 **0213**

Helga checked her phone for umpteenth time that night, waiting for a text back from Arnold. She had only gotten a short reply from him hours ago saying that he would call her later, but she hadn't heard anything yet and she was getting irritated. She sighed in frustration as she slapped her phone back into her lap.

"He's not ignoring you, Pataki. Relax." Gerald was playing with his own phone and didn't look up at her.

"I know that," Helga snapped.

"Then why are you getting so amped up about it? He's at the _hospital_. Once they know what's going on, he'll call you." Gerald put his phone down and looked at her. "Or are you just mad that he didn't tell you about what was going on himself."

"Fuck off, Johansson," she grumbled. She didn't want to talk about, especially not with _him_. "How I feel about _anything_ is none of your business."

Gerald chuckled. "Pataki, I don't really care one way or the other. I'm just glad he actually told me something before telling _you_ for once."

Helga regarded Gerald curiously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Gerald sighed. "I don't think I have to tell you that I don't hang out with him as much as I used to. Or really even that much at all, at least without you or Phoebe around. Ever since you got back from the hospital, I've been out of the loop."

Helga crossed her arms and scowled at him. "Oh, and you think I'm not upset that I barely ever see Phoebe these days? Trust me buddy, you're not the only one that's jealous."

Gerald looked back out the windshield for a moment. "Pataki, you ever get the feeling like we swapped best friends?"

Helga studied Gerald's expression. He looked completely earnest. "I guess I can see that. I don't share as much with Phoebe as I used to. And she doesn't share as much with me, either."

"Kinda fucked up, right? Here we are, each dating a really incredible person that we want to spend all of our time with, that makes us happier than we've probably ever been, and we're still jealous of the other one because we feel like we're losing our friends."

Helga sat back and sighed. "We're not losing anything, Geraldo. Phoebe is the sister I always wished I had. I know you're a brother to Arnold. That transcends friendship. If you and Arnold disappeared tomorrow, Phoebe and I could pick up where we left off like nothing ever happened. I'm sure the same would be true of you two knuckleheads. Relationships change. Shit, you should have seen how awful I was to Phoebe in grade school. It wasn't pretty."

Gerald huffed. "Helga Pataki, acting like a bitch to her friend? Never woulda guessed."

Helga glared at him. "Easy there, bucko. I'm trying this whole new thing where I'm _honest_ and _open_ about shit to my friends. Don't make me regret it."

Gerald looked at her and studied her face. _She looks like she's telling the truth,_ he mused. "You consider me a friend?"

Helga shrugged. "Not a _good_ one, if you're gonna be a dick when I open up."

Gerald laughed. "Sorry Pataki. Guess I'm having a hard time accepting that when you're still a raging bitch to everyone around you."

"Old habits die hard." She gave him a smirk. "Besides, I'm a supervisor now. I'm _paid_ to be a raging bitch to my underlings."

"At least you're easier on the eyes than Wittenburg," Gerald said with a grin.

Helga huffed. "That's not exactly a compliment. Even Harold is easier on the eyes than Wittenburg."

That sat in silence for a moment before Gerald spoke up again. "You think we're ever gonna get past the bickering, Pataki?"

Helga laughed softly. "Gerald, I love Arnold to death, and I fight with him more than I fight with any other person on this planet. You're just not that lucky."

"I guess not. At least you're a good sparring partner."

Helga smiled at that. "Right back at ya."

* * *

 **0256**

"Sheriff's Office to Papa Sierra zero one zero."

"Don't they know what time it is?" Gerald whined.

"Can it and answer them," Helga replied.

"Zero one zero," Gerald said into the microphone with a touch of attitude.

"Zero one zero, patrol to the State Patrol barracks. One in custody at that location on a Family Court warrant."

"Received, en route. Is the warrant straight to jail or does it require arraignment?"

"Straight to jail, zero one zero."

"Received." Gerald hung the microphone up. "At least that makes it easy. Why are we getting all the calls? What's the south patrol doing?"

"Not work, apparently. Just smile and take the easy scratch. No one ever got in trouble for having too many arrests."

Helga turned around and began heading back toward the State barracks. They could see a State officer standing in front of the building with a handcuffed subject. As the parked and exited their patrol car, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, round wrapper. "You want a mint, Geraldo?"

Gerald shrugged without looking and held out his hand. Helga popped the round tablet into his hand and Gerald tossed it in his mouth.

"This one is all yours, county," the State officer said. He began to remove the handcuffs when Gerald began coughing violently. All eyes swung to him as he bent over, foam flying from his mouth as he started spitting on the ground. The State officer and his suspect watched in horror as Helga began laughing hysterically. The officer looked at her with disdain. "Why are you laughing? He needs help!"

Helga was doubled over. "N-n-no he doesn't!" she stammered between breaths. "That wasn't a mint. It was an Alkaseltzer tab. I was going to pull that one on Shortman tonight, but the opportunity was too good!"

The handcuffed suspect and the officer looked at one another, then back to Gerald. "The fuck is wrong with you people?" he asked no one in particular.

* * *

 **0554**

"911 to patrols in the area of Route 732, one mile from Route 271, respond for a tree down in the roadway blocking the lane of travel."

Helga groaned and rubbed her eyes. She and Gerald had returned to the substation to work on paperwork, but both had nodded off sometime around 0430. _Why do I keep doing doubles to work with Arnold? He's my boyfriend, I actually see him outside of work._ She activated the station radio. "Papa Sierra zero one zero, we'll be en route from 271 and 14. Is there a state patrol closer?"

"State 790, we're at 271 and 15. You're closer, County."

Helga snorted. "Of course, we are," she muttered to herself. She activated the radio again. "Zero one zero en route." She didn't wait for an acknowledgement and instead kicked Gerald's feet off the table. He had managed to sleep through the radio transmission. "Wake up, Geraldo. We've gotta go move a tree out of the road."

"Pataki, you're worse than my mother," Gerald whined. "She at least kicked the bed instead of kicking me."

"Shut it and get in the car," she called over her shoulder as she walked out the door.

Gerald yawned as he stood up. "This better be a big damn tree."

* * *

 **0613**

"They're fucking with us, right? This is some kind of stupid joke?" Helga questioned.

"I guess we'd better move it," Gerald muttered.

Helga gave him a sidelong glance. "What's this 'we' stuff? I've got the stripes. You're doing the work here."

Gerald smirked. "You're getting lazy, Pataki."

Helga grinned at him. "It's called 'delegation' and I'm delegating this job to you. But don't worry, I'll write up the report on this one."

"You're too kind." Gerald walked over to the tree while Helga walked across the road to direct traffic. _Calling this a 'tree' is pretty generous,_ Gerald thought. The 'blockage' could be considered a tree only in that it was a free-standing plant of its own. The stick laying in the road was no wider than Gerald's wrist at the base. Gerald lifted the stick with one hand and dragged it out of the road. _It probably took this person longer to call 911 and report than it would have to move it themselves._ Gerald tossed the stick into the ditch on the side of the road and kicked a few small twigs over the fog line before walking back the patrol car.

"Great work, Geraldo. I'm putting you in for a commendation on that one," Helga said as he climbed back into the car.

"Just doin' my job, Sarge. By the way, I've decided that you're the shit magnet, not Arnold. If this shift is anything to judge by."

Helga grunted. "Whatever. Let's get out of here so you can go back to being Phoebe's problem."

 **This chapter was already written and just needed to be cleaned up a bit, so I figured I'd throw it out there. All three calls are real, as is the joke (the guy really did pull it on his partner as they were picking up a warrant from State, too). The only embellishment is that the staties were dancing in the lot. They were actually just 'dancing' in their cars, but the rest is true. And yes, for some reason that's really the only thing I remember from German in college. No clue why, and I've never had cause to say it to anyone.**


	83. Chapter 82 - Is it safe?

**Is it safe?**

 **May 8, 0515**

Rhonda awoke with a start to the horrible sound of her phone vibrating on the nightstand. She blinked her eyes several times, attempting to focus on the screen. _Uh oh,_ she thought. _It can't be good if the principal is calling me this early._ She picked up the phone and cleared her throat, hoping she wouldn't sound like she just woke up.

"Hey Dan. What's up?"

"Rhonda, sorry to bother you, but I have a… situation," the man said. "Last night, one of my teachers received an email from a student that had a concern about school safety. She didn't receive the email until this morning and as soon as she saw it, she sent it on to me. It shows what appears to be one of our students holding a gun to his head."

Rhonda sat up straight, now fully awake. "Can we verify that it's a student? Can you see their face?"

"No, he's wearing a mask of some sort. But it looks like the hat he always wears and it's on his SnapChat story."

Rhonda frowned. "Alright, send me the picture. I'll start getting ready. Has anyone called this in yet? Is a patrol on their way there?"

"No," Dan replied. "And I'm not happy about it. As far as I can tell, about a dozen parents knew and no one called. Even my teacher called me without calling 911."

Rhonda sighed. "Alright. Call the office and get a patrol out there to do a welfare check and then I'll take over the case when I get there. I'll be on the road in about a half hour."

Rhonda hung up the phone and jumped out of bed. She groaned. _I'm not going to be able to condition my hair today._ _It's going to be a mess._

* * *

 **0537**

The picture wasn't nearly as bad as she had thought it would be, though it was far from good. The subject was wearing a mask, but his beard stuck out below it, confirming it was a male student. And she was fairly certain she knew which one it was. He was holding what appeared to be a small assault rifle to his head. There was no text implying any sort of threat.

Her phone rang again as she was tying her boots. "Lloyd."

"Hey Rhonda, it's Eugene."

"I hope you have good news for me, Eugene."

"Well, I guess so. Your principal called. I sent Curly and Harold out there, but I got a call from Sergeant Benson over at State. He said they handled a welfare check there last night for the same thing."

"So what did they do with the kid?"

"He says they transported him to the hospital. I already called over there and they confirmed that he's still at intake for mental health evaluation and won't be out for a few hours."

Rhonda sighed in relief. "Great. Thanks Eugene. Just make an incident report for me and I'll finish it up. But make sure you put in the part about talking to the hospital."

"You got it."

Rhonda hung up. "Guess school's in session after all," she mumbled.

* * *

 **0658**

Rhonda stood at the main entrance to the high school, sipping her still too-hot coffee as she waited for the first bus to arrive. Dan had arrived early and was already in his office, preparing a statement. She turned to put her coffee down on a table and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the trophy case next to her. _Ugh, my hair looks terrible._ Her examination was interrupted by flashing red lights that washed out her view. She turned and saw the first bus had stopped in front of the door. She turned to face the rush of students.

A rush that didn't come, as only a half dozen students exited the bus. Rhonda frowned. The first bus usually had far more students than that. She walked up to the main office.

"Dan is everything alright?" she asked as she walked into the principal's office. "That first bus only had about six kids on it."

Dan was holding his head in his hands as he stared at the computer screen. "I think that's going to be the norm today. A bunch of parents have seen that picture. I have dozens of emails about kids being held out of school today. A lot of them seem to think that there's a threat to the school."

"I guess it got around then. Have you spoken to his parents yet?"

The principal nodded. "His mother is keeping him out today. He was going to get suspended anyway for some of the stuff he did on Friday. Yelling racial slurs and that sort of thing. I was going to put him out for two days but now I'm thinking five would be better for everyone. Give this time to blow over."

Rhonda nodded. "I'm gonna go back to the door. A day like today, I should probably be as visible as possible."

"Good idea. I'll let you know if anything else comes up."

Rhonda exited the office and was immediately approached by a nervous looking student and a concerned teacher.

"Uh, Deputy Rhonda?" the student asked.

"What can I help you with?"

"Uh, well, someone posted this picture on SnapChat and I thought you should know about it." The student showed the now apparently infamous picture to her.

Rhonda smiled at the student. "Don't worry about it. It was dealt with last night and he's not coming to school for a few days. Okay?"

The student nodded. "Yeah, thanks." The student ran off to her locker while the teacher nodded and returned to her room.

 _This is going to be a fun day_ , Rhonda thought, shaking her head. She returned to the main entrance and watched as students continued to trickle in, mostly from parents dropping them off in personal vehicles. A few made mention of the photo, though most seemed unconcerned. Most maintained that he did stupid shit all the time, so this was no different.

She wasn't particularly worried until a large bus pulled up and only one student disembarked. _Are you kidding me?_

"Hey Lloyd, the bus driver needs to talk to you," the student said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the bus.

Rhonda walked up to the bus and knocked on the door. The bus driver opened it and motioned for her to come inside. "Deputy, at the last stop, a parent got on the bus and told everyone that there was going to be a shooting at the school today and that they shouldn't go. Now they won't get off the bus."

Rhonda turned and looked down the row of the bus. Dozens of frightened eyes looked back at her. Anger bubbled inside her. _Who the hell would do that? Who shows up and just terrifies a bunch of kids?_

"Everyone, it's fine. There was never a threat to the school, and the student involved will not be here today. It's safe for you to come to school. And I'll be here all day, just in case."

"Are you sure?" a student from the back of the bus asked.

Rhonda squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. "I'm positive. Do you think we would let you come to school if it wasn't safe? If we felt there was a threat, school would be closed today, and we'd have the place ringed with cops. I promise, it's safe."

The students slowly stood and began to line up. Rhonda returned to her post at front door, seething at the remarkably irresponsible parent that decided to terrify a bus load of middle schoolers.

 **A/N: Yeah, so, true story. And I can't deny that I was absolutely furious at whatever parent decided to say that. Sadly, that was not something that I was permitted to handle. I apologize for my extended absence. The next chapter should be up in far less time.**


	84. Chapter 83 - Academy Day

**Academy Day**

 **May 10, 0621**

"C'mon Football Head, are you just gonna pout the whole time?"

Arnold kept his arms crossed and continued looking out the passenger side window of the car. "Trust me, Helga. I know _exactly_ why you're bringing me to this class today."

Helga suppressed a smile. "You do, do you? Please, enlighten me."

"You're going to use me as a real-life example for the recruits. And if it also happens to embarrass me, all the better for you."

Helga reached over and rubbed his shoulder. "I promise I won't call you Football Head in front of the recruits. And I'll only insult you once. Twice tops."

Arnold huffed but let her pull his hand out and wrap it with her own.

"Arnold, I _do_ need a favor from you," Helga said softly. Arnold turned and looked at her but said nothing. "I need you to leave the room when I ask you to. No questions. Okay?"

Arnold furrowed his brow in confusion. "Uh, sure."

Helga gently shook their joined hands while she pursed her lips. "Thanks."

* * *

 **0745**

"Okay, quiz time. Why don't we deploy a taser in a lethal force encounter without a cover officer? You, back right." Helga pointed at a recruit toward the back of the classroom.

"The potential for failure is high and an officer won't have time to recover from a failure on their own."

"Very good. I'd like to introduce all of you to Deputy Shortman." Helga pointed to Arnold, who was standing near the board at the front of the class with Helga. The classroom was a typical college-style lecture hall with tiered rows of tables. The recruits were broken down into squads, with one squad per row. Each squad had a leader that sat on the right side of the row, while the class Lieutenant and First Sergeant were seated behind the rest.

The class Lieutenant stood up from his seat. "Class, atten- _tion_."

The recruits all shot to their feet and rendered a salute. "Sir, good evening, sir," they called in unison.

Arnold smartly returned their salute. "Good evening class. As you were." The recruits returned to their seats.

"Deputy Shortman is here because he deployed a taser in a lethal force encounter with a subject that was armed with a knife." Helga clicked her remote and advanced the PowerPoint slide. The image was a photo of the suspect that had attacked Arnold with a knife in traffic. The man's hair was unkempt and was clearly agitated. "The suspect was suffering a mental breakdown at the time of the incident. No prior history of mental illness. Deputy Shortman was dispatched to a man yelling at passing cars and standing in the roadway. No weapons were reported by the initial caller."

Helga advanced to the next slide. She started a video that showed Arnold exiting his vehicle and addressing the subject. Arnold stood at the edge of the frame and the microphone for his dash camera picked up his instructions to the suspect. The class was able to see the man turn and begin approaching Arnold, who began to back up and out of the frame. The man pulled the knife from the back of his pants and charged, but the class could not see what transpired off camera. All they heard was yelling, a popping noise, and the steady clicking of an activated taser before the video ended.

"As you can see, the incident went from fairly routine mental health call to deadly force encounter in a few seconds. Deputy Shortman chose to discharge his taser instead of his sidearm. Thankfully for Deputy Shortman, his taser worked properly and the suspect was incapacitated. However,…" Helga looked over to Arnold, which he took as the signal. He pulled his torn uniform shirt from a plastic bag on the table and held it for the class while Helga advanced the slide to show a pair of photos of Arnold at the scene, still wearing the shirt and displaying his partially cut microphone cord. "As you can see, a taser failure in this case would have ended up with Deputy Shortman being essentially unarmed in a knife fight. With his microphone cord damaged, Deputy Shortman was unable to hear dispatch and was unable to contact us with a status update. I- "Helga paused and cleared her throat, quickly resuming. " _We_ thought we may have lost Deputy Shortman when we couldn't raise him."

Helga's voice had a slight waver to it that only Arnold noticed. "Don't be a yutz like Deputy Shortman. The taser is not to be depended upon in a lethal force encounter if you are by yourself." Helga glanced to Arnold and he could see a mix of sadness and fear in her eyes from talking about the incident. "Thank you, Deputy. That is all."

Arnold nodded to the class and made his exit. Helga waited for the door to close before continuing. She leaned forward and placed her hands on the table in front of her. Her eyes remained fixed on the floor ahead of her. "I also want to make one thing very clear to all of you. I personally think Deputy Shortman made the wrong decision on this call. But he made that decision in order to save a man's life. He was willing to risk his life for it. Deputy Shortman didn't hesitate to _take_ a life when the lives of two of his fellow officers were on the line. If he _had_ hesitated, I would have bled out behind a Tahoe in the street." She raised her gaze and scanned the faces in the classroom as her voice took a hard edge. "Remember two things. First, the only life you get to risk is your own. Second, _never_ mistake compassion for weakness."


End file.
